


The Depression of Tim Drake and How He Deals With It

by Crimson5Drake



Series: Tim's Daughter AU [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alone, But the death is going to be mentioned a lot, Dad!Supes, Deaths, Depressed Tim, Depression, He doesn't remember it, He feels lost, He feels so left out and he shouldn't, He finds something made by Dick, He later comes to the conclusion that all of the Batfam was given one, Kon is already dead, M/M, So no actual death is taking place, Super!Dad, Takes place right after Tim gets the call that Bart is dead, They call in Raven's help, This takes place after the death, Tim is hurting so bad, and sad, i should clarify, so is steph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson5Drake/pseuds/Crimson5Drake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim is lost, alone, and goes to see Jason after crying all night.  He isn't home but he finds something else.  Tim is mad at Dick because he never remembers getting one of these.  After Damian's death and resurrection.  The events are misplaced if you're going by canon, but this doesn't directly follow canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alternatives for Self-Harm

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by something I found on Tumblr last night. Which was completely needed. I guess God works in mysterious ways. My grandfather was taken to the emergency room and he's still there and not doing well. I found the post and my mind immidiately reached out to Tim because I can relate to him so much right now. So that's where this came from.
> 
> Don't worry. I haven't abandoned anything, not even the song-fics, even though I don't quite know what else to do with Sebastian Jefferson Barnes yet.

It hadn't even been a full day since he got that phone call about Bart, saying he was dead. _It wasn't fair_ , Tim kept telling himself. _He should have been there. He could have done something._

He was slumped against the wall of his apartment, tear streaks down his face from crying all night—poor kid hadn't even slept, he wasn't able to and he wasn't going to allow himself to, not until he was able to fix what had been done—there were ways, he knew it, he just had figure out the perfect mathematical algorithm to allow him to go back in time, without a machine.

Red scratches on his arms and sides indicated the areas that he'd raked with his nails until they were raw. No blood and he knew the redness would fade. He didn't want Dick asking questions when the acrobat made his appearance. He knew it would happen, it was just a matter of time—unless he hadn't been informed, which was just as well.

Although he'd have to keep up appearances which meant going back to the Tower, occasionally showing up at the Batmanor. He knew it would be fake and that he wouldn't really be enjoying himself or having fun despite outward appearances but it would be something to keep them off his back, out of his hair. They wouldn't be asking questions if they thought he was fine. Chances were none of them knew what had happened and he was fine with that.

He'd go to Barry and shed tears there because god knew the speedster was having a hard time with the loss of his grandson as well. He'd see how Hal was doing even though he was probably consoling Barry. Then he'd go check in on Wally.

God, _Wally_.

It was at that moment in time that Tim _knew_ Dick knew. There's no way Wally _didn't_ go to Dick with the information of his cousin's death. And then there was no way that Dick _wasn't_ going to console Wally.

And what? Leave his brother in the dust, forgotten? Not even caring? Tim's mouth fell open in a noiseless gasp. Did Dick not care? Had he completely forgotten his brother? Even as the thoughts went through his head he couldn't stop feeling a pang of jealousy.

Wally had Barry and Iris and Hal and...others. Tim only had himself. And Dick. Maybe Dick? He didn't even have Conner because of a different freak accident that left him dead too. Meaning all Tim really had was himself—himself and his ghosts.

He didn’t have Stephanie because she had died too—been killed.

It was all the same in his head, in his mind. He rubbed his hands over his his arms, the tears building again. He gasped, vocally this time and tears fell hard and fast. He roughly scraped his nails over his arms—he wanted pain. He wanted to feel physical pain. He wanted the reassurance that he was still alive.

Maybe if things got too bad he could just request to spar with Damian—but that would send up red flags. They never sparred without reason, definitely never on _Tim's_ request.

Cass? No. She'd figure him out all too quickly and that's not what he needed. He didn't need to be caught in the act of self-harm without the self part, especially if he purposely only got in a few hits and let himself be beaten. No, she'd know—And then she'd question him—He wouldn't be able to run because she'd follow him. She'd even find him here and she wouldn't stop until she got answers, the _right_ answers. She seemed to know just when he was lying and what details were off about what when he spoke. He even found her correcting small details for him about missions she _hadn't_ been on because some things got lost on the way from his brain to his mouth while he was debriefing while falling asleep. How she did that, he would never know.

No. He'd spar with Jason. They would both need it. He wouldn't ask questions. He was far enough away from the family on an emotional level that even if they knew anything he wouldn’t. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the slacking on Tim's end. Maybe he wouldn't ask questions. Hopefully.

Tim swallowed and pushed himself up. He felt weak, sick. Like he wanted to throw up. When was the last time he'd eaten? His body heaved at that thought. Long enough, perhaps too long on his end but he knew if he'd tried now it may not even make it past his mouth before the bile was rising up his throat and that would just be from the _taste_ of food. He felt nauseated just at the thought.

Maybe going to Jason would be a bad idea. Maybe. But he felt dizzy and worse, the world spinning around him at the thought of being alone again—still—He didn't know.

* * * * * *

When he got to Jason's apartment he found the thing locked. He wasn't home and it was probably rigged or something knowing Jason. He always left the thing rigged whenever he went off with Roy. That way nothing could be tampered with, the intruder would go down, and none of his weapons plans or whatever he had lying around or put away or whatever would be compromised. It would all be demolished and so would his apartment.

Tim shrugged. It didn't sound that bad. He was willing to take that chance—that it was rigged to explode and that he'd go down in the explosion. Not the best way to go, sure, but it beat doing it himself. Although in a roundabout way this was doing it himself.

He paused with that thought in mind. After a few minutes of mulling it over and contemplating things, he leaped onto the building. He climbed around it, hand-over-hand, stopped at the window. He tested it gently and it budged slightly. He pulled harder this time and braced himself when it came up. He slowly opened his eyes and sighed—partly in relief, partly in disappointment. He wanted to see something explode and, more morbidly, maybe be a part of it.

Tim stood on the sill of the open window and gazed around the room. He leaped inside and caught the impact on a roll. He stood up at wavered, almost falling over from the wave of dizziness that swept over him. He needed to lie down. But he couldn't—he wouldn't. He wouldn't stop moving, not until something was done for them. There was the Pit—Or cloning. Maybe he'd go with that. He needed his Clone Boy. Maybe if he had his Clone Boy and his Batgirl he'd be falling apart less. He knew they'd help him, but they weren't around to.

As it was, Tim was already feeling unstable and like he was going to pass out. He was feeling fatigued from a whole night of doing nothing but crying. Then he decided to walk to Jason's apartment. He'd had a few dizzy spells along the way and he was surprised that he didn't collapse or something on the street. Running on no food for the past day and half to two days, no sleep for three days, and his only source of hydration was water and energy drinks. He was running on fumes but he would never admit it.

He sat down on the couch and something caught his eye. Papers, but not your normal Jason papers. No, no. These looked like they were printed on card-stalk. Felt like it too. Made with boarders the looked floral and other such things. Sunshine and birds. Little robins and bluejays and the occasional bat. Tim laughed and shook his head. Dick's doing no doubt, just from the looks of it. He picked them up and stopped. He read the heading—Though it was more like a cover page.

**Alternatives For Self-Harm**

He stopped. He wanted to put it down, wishing he had never seen the homemade booklet but at the same time he couldn't. He couldn't put it down. He couldn't put it back. He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know Jason had this. Yeah, it had to be from Dick.

Instead of putting it down, he flipped the page and read a few of them. He noticed that the page had a heading. So did the next and so did the next and so on.

**Alternatives for when you're feeling angry or restless:**

  * Scribble on photos of people in magazines—You know, the musicians and models and the people you don't like.




Tim had to smile because the comments looked like they were all hand written by Dick, scrawled in pen after the pages were printed. He examined it closer. This was a photocopy.

  * Viciously stab an orange—Think of the person who angers you. Think of stabbing them but don't actually stab _them_. Please and thank you. Bruce would have my head.




Tim wondered if this was originally created for Damian because that sounded like something Damian would do, most likely to Tim.

  * Throw an apple/a pair of socks against the wall—Don't worry about the mess. You're friendly neighborhood creeper will be around to clean it up.




Tim shook his head. What would Dick do? Install cameras so Babs could tell him who's safe house to go to to clean? His eyes widened at the thought. Had they done that? Were all the safe houses bugged and he didn't know?

Tim swallowed down his panic and kept reading. Best he didn't know the answer to that one.

  * Have a pillow fight with the wall—It's a great way to alleviate stress and anger, especially if you think of hitting the person, but again, please don't _actually_ hit the person you are angry with. Pillow or not.




Again, aimed at Damian.

  * Scream very loudly—Can be done as a faux battle-cry on patrol or into a pillow. Your choice. Apartment tenants don't need to think that a heinous murder is being committed when it's not. Please and thank you.




Apartment tenants? So this one was aimed at both Jason and Damian. That was nice actually.

  * Tear apart newspapers, photos, or magazines—Articles that make you mad, people you don't like. ...I suppose that includes pictures taken by the paparazzi of siblings that you don't like that you come across in newspaper articles. Please just do this out of frustration and not hate. People don't need to be hurt or crushed or whatever if they find out.




Hmm... Aimed at Damian again.

  * Go to the gym, dance, exercise—Any kind of physical movement helps. Acrobatics are fun too. I know you all could use some limbering up. It's a good way to get limber and stay limber.




Tim cracked a grin at that one. His goofy older brother. He loved it.

  * Listen to music and sing along—Loudly. It's fun. I do it all the time.




“Yeah, in the shower, in the car, I've heard you humming on patrol before.” He laughed at the memory the comment had rekindled. He remembered that night. He remembered that thug too. He started singing as well. It was rather odd but it worked and they never saw him again.

  * Draw a picture of what's making you angry—It's a good way to practice your drawing skills in case you need to rough sketch a criminal.




“Whatever you say, Dick,” Tim muttered through a yawn. He stretched and laid down. His vision was clouded with tears because of his yawn.

Maybe he'd lay down. He wouldn't sleep though. He didn't need a nap, he needed to figure out what to do and how to bring people back from the dead.

But even as those thoughts kept running through his head, he was finding it oh so hard to keep his eyes open.


	2. Her name is Cassie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim stared Jason hard in the eye, even at that close. He wasn't scared, the threats didn't bother him. Honestly, they sounded appealing—quite so, if he was being honest. But there was a fire in Jason's eyes. Something told Tim that he'd be on the receiving end of Jason's wrathful fury after he was brought back. And the anger of Dick and Bruce. And Clark—he saw Tim like a son of his own. They became close while he was dating Conner. He wondered if it would be not so much anger as it would be hurt and disappointment.

Tim woke up to loud noises. _What the hell?_ He was instantly on his feet—which turned out to be a bad move on his part. His head swam and he vomited before falling back onto the couch. He felt sick, he felt dizzy, he felt _hot_ like he had a fever of sorts. He was a mess. A hot mess.

His stomach churned when he realized that was the door and that was probably Jason unlocking the door and he had just thrown up on Jason's floor and— _Oh god, coming here was a bad idea. Jason would probably be mad at him and he'd probably call Dick to come pick him up and FUCK! This was bad. This was really really bad._

Tim wanted to dart, wanted to run, wanted to _move_! But he couldn't. He couldn't even stand. His eyes picked out all of the escape routes he had but he couldn't move to exit through them and—Shit! The door was open.

Jason's face was suddenly one of concern. “Tim?” he asked, assessing his younger brother. He looked like shit and Jason wasn't sure he should voice that part of his thoughts. “What happened?” He stepped into his apartment and gently closed the door behind him so Tim didn't freak out. “You're a mess,” he told him gently. The dark circles under his eyes, the messiness of his hair—more so than usual, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. He didn't even want to think of the mess on the floor—Jason was glad it was hard wood flooring. It's much easier to clean. “Does Dick know you're here?” he questioned before walking into the hall way and rustling around in the closet for a cloth. He walked to the kitchen to get it wet and started on the floor at Tim's feet. He was concerned with Tim's silence. Something was wrong, he knew that much from...well, everything. It didn't take a genius to know something was wrong with his little brother, he just didn't know what. “Dick should know you're here, Babybird.” Jason looked up at Tim and saw the complete unadulterated terror in his eyes. “He doesn't know you're here,” he concluded quietly.

“Please, don't tell him,” Tim squeaked out fearfully. He readjusted himself on the couch and he somehow ended up being extremely small and practically stuffed into the corner next to a few of the throw pillows.

Jason sighed, highly confused, but nodded. He wouldn't tell unless he was asked. Something was desperately wrong with the kid and if anyone knew how to console the rundown teen, it was Dick. Jason finished with the mess on the floor and rang the rag out in his kitchen sink. Judging by the fact that the mess looked like bile and foam, Jason was going to take a guess and say the kid hadn't eaten in three or so days. He was also going to say that he was probably running solely on caffeine and fumes—although by now it was most likely he was running solely on fumes.

He went back to the living room and did a once over with the rinsed out rag. He got up and tossed it in the sink and walked to the closet again and brought out a towel to dry the floor. “When was the last time you ate?” Jason asked Tim, gingerly sitting down on the couch next him, afraid Tim would dart if he made any sudden movements or moved too quickly. Jason knew Tim was easily to spook when he was frightened and fearful like this.

Jason knew he should really contact Dick or Damian or someone. _What about his friends? Couldn't Tim contact his friends? Uh... What was her name? The blonde who was always hanging out with Wonder Woman and Superman. Um...uh..._ He was mentally snapping his fingers, trying to remember her name because it was right on the tip of his tongue. _Troia! No, no. Not Troia. She was the one that I wanted to strangle... Or kill from the inside out. No... What was her name?_ He mentally shook his head, absentmindedly stroking Tim's hair because Tim had leaned into him for comfort. Jason had his arm wrapped protectively around Tim and was holding him close to his chest. Tim was still silent but he wasn't fighting. _Oh forget it, I'll just call Superman, he'll know._

Jason stopped thinking and looked down at Tim. “Hey, Tim, when was the last time you had anything to eat?” It was an honest question. Jason wasn't prying to pry. He hated when Dick did that and learned to respect the privacy of his siblings. He knew lines had to be drawn at some point and if Tim didn't look so broken he may have already forced some sort of sustenance down Tim's throat without permission from the boy, but right now, that wasn't the kind of treatment Tim needed.

Tim was silent still and Jason wondered if he had actually fallen asleep. “I-it's been a few days,” he finally answered, shakily so, but at least it was something.

“Really now?” Jason asked. “You really need to take better care of yourself, Babybird.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and browsed through his contacts. “I'm gonna order take out. What sounds good to you, Timmy?” He found Clark and shot him a text, asking what was up and what was going on. **And what's the WW's sk's name again?**

Tim groaned, sitting up. He felt like he was going to vomit at even the mention of food. “Jason, I don't think I can...” He lurched forward, heaving. This wasn't good and Tim knew it. Even the thought of food was making him sick. _That would worry Jason and Jason would call Dick and that would be bad. Dick had Wally to worry about and Wally to care for. Tim was fine on his own. He didn't need Dick, he didn't need anyone. He just needed his friends back._ Tim heaved again and Jason was off the couch, retrieving a bucket from the other room.

All the worry and panic and desperation was filling Tim's mind. _He couldn't do this. He didn't_ want _to do this. Not alone. Not again._ But what was he going to do? The only people to console him were dead or elsewhere— _consoling somebody else_.

Jason brought the bucket back and sat it down by Tim's feet. Jason saw the tears that were mixing with the sweat from the heaving. Jason didn't think much of the tears because whenever he would throw up, tears were always involved. He thought it was a natural reaction that went along with vomiting. Still, he sat down next to Timmy and gently rubbed his back in a soothing manner. He sighed to himself. “Tim, if I order take out, will the smell bother you?” He was genuinely concerned about the young bird's health and if he was heaving at only the _thought_ of food, he knew something was way wrong. He wasn't sure if getting actual food involved would help or make it worse and he really wanted to call Alfred and ask, but at the same time, that would be risking Tim and what if Dick was there and overheard? He'd be here in an instant, no questions asked, and with the way Tim reacted earlier, Jason wasn't sure if that was the best course of action here. _What the hell was he supposed to do?_ He wanted to run his hands through his hair and be frustrated and react the way he wanted to, but helping Tim was like helping Roy and if there was anything you didn't do with either of them it was freak out. The last time Jason did that, Roy had bad flashbacks of Oliver and it took him over a week for Roy to completely stop flinching when he reached out to him physically.

He was brought back to earth by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. Jason shifted it out of his pocket. Clark was calling him. Jason swallowed thickly, standing up. Usually, these kinds of things didn't go too well. “Getting a call,” he told Tim. “Mind if I step outside for a moment?”

Tim glanced up at him blankly. “It's your apartment, Red,” he answered like that should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

Jason studied Tim, letting the phone ring. Clark would call back or Jason could call him after stepping outside. He didn't like the look in Tim's eye. There was something off-putting about it, something that made Jason not want to leave him alone. It was moments like these that made Jason wish he had a dog. Or a trained parrot that would alert him to when his brothers were doing something stupid. Reading minds would have been nice at that moment as well.

“Clark called and I need to answer it,” he told Tim. “I don't like that look your eye and _I swear to God_ if I step outside and you take advantage and do something dumb like knife play or attempted suicide, I _will_ call Dick and tell him that you're here.” Jason huffed. “Something is wrong and I don't know what.” He continued speaking, this time in a begging tone. “You need to tell me, Tim. Let me in, here. I'm your _brother_. I _care_ for you. I know I don't show it, but I do. You're more to me than just my replacement.” He glanced away from Tim and muttered something inaudible.

Tim smirked and raised his eyebrows. “I'm sorry, what? I didn't catch that.”

“I said, it wasn't such a bad thing. I started using it as a pet term for you, actually.” Jason could feel himself turning red.

Tim actually smiled. That was probably the sweetest thing he'd ever heard Jason say to him.

“Also, if I found that you've killed yourself, I will personally throw you in the Pit and then kill you myself just to bring you back again to explain to me what the hell is going on. And if I find you're just playing with knives to see if I will make good on my threat about calling Dick, I _will_ kill you myself. And then I will bring you back.” He leaned in close to Tim, their faces close, breath mingling. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” he growled, his eyes flashed. “I do not make empty threats.”

Tim stared Jason hard in the eye, even at that close. He wasn't scared, the threats didn't bother him. Honestly, they sounded appealing—quite so, if he was being honest. But there was a fire in Jason's eyes. Something told Tim that he'd be on the receiving end of Jason's wrathful fury after he was brought back. And the anger of Dick and Bruce. And Clark—he saw Tim like a son of his own. They became close while he was dating Conner. He wondered if it would be not so much anger as it would be hurt and disappointment.

Tim sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, fine. I won't do anything,” he grumbled. He was actually kind of curious to keep reading the self-harm alternatives.

Jason studied his face closely for a moment, looking for any signs of lying from his brother. No twitching nerves, pupils were fine, breathing was shaky—probably from the vomiting earlier—but otherwise pretty even. Jason nodded and pulled away, satisfied that Tim was being truthful. “Alright kid, I'll be back.” He placed a gentle kiss on Tim's forehead and stepped outside, his phone buzzing again.

Tim dug the pamphlet out of the couch cushions behind him and laid down again. He flipped it open again and continued reading it.

  * Beat up a stuffed animal—I don't know what I was thinking about with this one. But if you are going to do this, beat up an owl. You may have to sneak it past Bruce though.




Tim grinned and shook his head. Like any of the Batkids would have the heart to beat up a stuffed animal, even an owl. He didn't know who that would have been aimed at at all. Nobody in the Justice League would do such a thing. Although, maybe if it was a Talon.

  * Pop bubble wrap—Works in place of screaming. Incorporate stomping into this. It helps. Especially in an apartment. That way the tenants don't think you're committing a heinous murder because you're not screaming like the angry person you are.




Now this seemed like it could have been for everyone. Tim wondered if that's why Bruce didn't allow bubble wrap in the manor anymore. Did Dick over do it for him when he was Robin?

  * Splatter paint—Tons of fun. Nothing beats throwing paint at walls and each other. Wear old clothes, try to get 90% of paint on the walls, not on each other. Paint fights are fine but if 90% of the paint is on each other, then Bruce says this isn't allowed. Splattering clothes and blankets are also good.




That would be tons of fun actually. It was something he knew Bart and Kon would enjoy doing too.

Tim groaned and closed the pamphlet. He placed it on the floor and rolled over, facing the back of the couch. He was not doing this anymore and he wanted to get out. He wished he weren't sick that way he could just run. He wanted to get away. He wanted to do some of this shit but he couldn't do anything right now without setting Jason on alert. He closed his eyes, trying to fall back asleep.

Two minutes of laying there and he was feeling restless. He carefully rolled back over and picked the pamphlet up again. What the hell was Jason talking to Clark about anyway? He sat back up and glanced up at the door. Nothing. He glanced back at the pamphlet and opened it to where he had left off.

  * Scribble on a piece of paper until the whole thing is black—Challenge: I challenge all the Batkids to keep the ink on the paper. I challenge you guys not to get any on the surface underneath.




Tim shook his head. How would Bruce even know because black was black and the tables in the manor were black and _Geez Bruce, do you really pay attention_ that _closely?_

  * Filling a piece of paper with drawing cross hatches—Another way to work on your drawing skills. This is more difficult but fun.




Tim shook his head. He remembered trying that before. The end result was the sheet of paper being balled up and chucked at Dick—Of course that was because he couldn't stop laughing and teasing Tim about his drawing. Tim finally had enough and chased him through the house before finally tackling him to the floor. Going through the memory made him laugh—which made him cough up bile—which made him choke. All because he was still laughing.

* * * * * *

Jason closed the door behind himself and answered his phone. “Hey, Clark. Thanks for getting back to me. I didn't know who else to go to and—”

“Tim's there, isn't he?” Clark asked Jason, cutting to the chase.

“Yeah, he is.” Jason had a hand twisted in his hair. “Please don't tell Dick,” he pleaded. “I already asked Tim if Dick knew he was here and the fear in his eyes...” Jason turned on his heel and bounced on his toes. “Clark, I have no idea what's going on. He's not opening up to me at all. He hasn't eaten in days and I only _mentioned_ food to him and he threw up. He needs something but I don't know what. I already thought of calling Alfred but if Dick is home and overhears that Tim is here, he'll show up unannounced and Tim is already panicky and freaked out. He's stressed, lacking sleep, and running on fumes. I don't know what to do, I need help, I don't know what is freaking him out so much, and he needs a friend to relate to who knows more about the situation at hand than I do, so I thought of Diana's sidekick, but I don't know what her name is. It's not Troia because this one I don't want to strangle and she's closer to Tim's age than Dick's and damn it, Clark! What is going on?”

“Jason,” Clark started gently, “Bart is dead.”

Jason's eyes went wide. “No wonder he's such a mess. First Kon—which I'm so sorry about by the way. Hope you're getting on okay. I can only imagine how Barry and Wally are dealing with Bart's death. Steph died too. They were dating.” Jason stopped talking, putting pieces together. “Wasn't he dating Conner at the time of his death?”

Clark was hesitant but he answered after a moment. “Yeah.” He practically breathed the word. Jason briefly wondered if he was crying.

“No wonder Tim's such a mess.” Jason's voice was quiet, assessing the situation. First Kon, then Steph... Jason knew Tim was close with Bart too.

“Make him some soup. Use chicken broth. You have the condensed cans, right? Use those. I'll stop by the manor and tell Alfred and Bruce that Tim is with you. I'll warn Bruce that Tim isn't doing well but that we have it under control. I'll also ask Alfred to make some of his award-winning chicken soup.”

Jason couldn't believe it. His breath caught in his throat and he felt the tears stinging his eyes, smiling widely. He couldn't believe his luck with Clark. “Thank you, Supes. Thank you _so_ much! This means so much to me. You don't even know. I'm sorry about all the shit Roy and I put you through. Kinda glad this isn't in person right now or I think I would have kissed you.”

Clark chuckled in Jason's ear. “You're welcome, Jason. We're all family. Remember that. The Justice League and all that extends out from it—We're all just one, big, dysfunctional family and when something happens in one branch, the whole tree feels it.”

“Thank you, Clark. I really mean it. So soup, rest, and just keep a general eye on him? I think I can handle this if I can keep you on speed-dial.”

“You really are welcome. And Jason?”

“Hmm?”

“Her name is Cassie. Cassie Sandsmark. You have Diana's cell number, don't you?”

“Uh...” Jason hesitated and pulled the phone away from his ear. He quickly glanced through his contacts. “Yeah, along with Barry's and Hal's and Dinah's. I think Dick gave me this phone after I lost my last phone. Well, I'll talk to you later, Clark. Babybird is inside coughing. _Thank_ you.” _Click._ Jason opened the door to see Tim doubled over the bucket, coughing and laughing and choking. He was instantly at the couch, rubbing Timmy's back. “Breathe, babe,” he told Tim gently. “Can you do that for me?”

Jason's gentle tone must have snapped Tim out of his laughing fit because the laughter calmed to where he was just coughing. Within the minute Tim had coughed up the bile he had been choking on and spit it out in the bucket at his feet. He looked up at Jason and smiled. It must have been the first genuine smile that Jason had seen on Tim since Kon died—Jason knew it was genuine because it reached his eyes. It was rare that Tim's smiles ever reached his eyes anymore. “Thanks.” He wiped his mouth off with his hand and Jason just eyed him before going to the kitchen to get him a box of tissues out of one of the cabinets. “So what did you and Supes talk about?” Tim asked Jason when Jason handed him the tissue box.

“ _You. You_ need to call Cassie.” Jason pulled his own phone out of his pocket. “I had no idea Bart died.” He sat down on the couch next to Tim and set his phone on the table by the couch. He pulled Tim into a hug and held him. “You need to tell me these things,” he sighed. “Nobody else seems to. I had to call Clark to get the lowdown on what was going on. You worry me, kid. Honestly. After you hurled at the mention of...well, you know, I had every nerve in my body screaming 'Call Alfred!' But then I remembered that look you had when I mentioned Dick and I didn't know if he'd be home right now and you were miserable and panicked and freaking out and having Dick show up right out of the blue, your anxiety would be through the roof—I know, I know, like it isn't already. Bottom line, you have people who care about you. The four of you were close. Call Cassie. She may need you more than ever right now and I _know_ you need her.” Jason inhaled, sounding sniffly.

Tim wiped his eyes and looked up at his brother, a small smile on his face. “Dude?” he asked, more tears shining in his eyes. He never took Jason for the overly-emotional type. “Are you crying?”

Jason reached up and touched his face. Sure enough, to his surprise, there were tears there. “We're a family,” he told Tim. “One, big, very strange, over protective, extremely dysfunctional family. And I mean 'extremely dysfunctional' in a good way.” Jason smiled lovingly at his brother. “Anyway, I told Clark about what happened with you when I even mentioned food and he suggested chicken soup. So I'm gonna make you some of that and I want you to eat it. You need something in your system. It's weak, it's depressed, it's anxiety-ridden. I know. I see it. I knew something was extremely wrong when I saw you on the couch and the mess on the floor but I didn't know what and now that I do, I'm not letting you of my sight.” He pulled Tim in for another hug. “I believe you won't do anything, but there are so many times I worry that I won't see you or Dick or even Damian again because of mishaps or thugs on patrol or something happening when I'm out with Roy. So me not letting you out of my sight isn't because I don't trust you, it's for my own peace of mind, Babybird. I love all of you, I just don't know how to show it most times.” He let go of Tim because Jason was sure that hand tugging on the back of his shirt wasn't because Babybird wanted him to strip. “Sorry. Didn't realize I was suffocating you.” He sighed. “Looks like Bruce and I have more in common than first thought. Anyway, I told Clark and asked for help and advice. He said that he would talk to Bruce and Alfred and let them know where you are and that you're safe and that they don't need to worry. He also said he would request some chicken soup of Alfred. But you know he wouldn't need to request, Alfred would do it automatically because he cares.”

Tim nodded. “I just wish...” Tim looked away, more tears filling his eyes.

“That you had your friends to help you through it. I know. I know you miss them. I know you miss Kon, I know you miss Steph, I know you miss Bart, and I know you wish he was around still. Barry and Wally and Hal miss him as well, I guarentee. Know who else misses him and Kon and probably very well knows how you're feeling? Cassie.” Jason pointed at his phone. “Now call her. She needs it, you need it, and then after you can tell me why you don't want to talk to Dick.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much longer than my previous chapter. Lots of JayTim fluff and other things. I love writing Dad!Supes. So much easier than Dad!Bats. Lol. Next chapter is Cassie's chapter. I've never written Cassie before so I'll be doing reading tomorrow while I'm at the hospital.
> 
> Grandpa is stable but two nights ago when we took him in the ER, he had a heart attack. We didn't know this until yesterday because it happened after we left, but tomorrow the doctors are going to look at the blockage and see how bad it is. They will most likely need to perform surgery. That won't happen tomorrow though. Please keep us in your prayers as we go through this rough time.
> 
> Anyway, it makes for good writing material on an emotional level. I seem to be having the opposite issue of Tim though. I keep eating and eating but I never seem to get full today. Idk. (I shrug)


	3. One Big Dysfunctional Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason studied Tim, never breaking eye contact. “I don't know, but Dick didn't leave you out, Babybird. I know he didn't. He would never do that.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I'm gonna call Clark now and then call Di and Cassie—let them know that reception here sucks.” He winked at Tim who flushed but nodded. He didn't break eye contact with Tim when he asked, “Is it alright if I call Dick as well?” He studied the emotions that crossed Tim's face but they all flitted past too quick, it was hard to tell—irritation, annoyance, anger, before finally landing on his poker face.

Diana glided over to her ringing phone. She looked at the caller ID. “Jason? Wonder why he's calling me.” She picked up the phone. “Jason?”

Tim shook his head on the other end of the phone. “Di, it's-it's...” He started shaking and couldn't continue talking.

“Tim,” she gently finished for him. “Let me get Cassie for you. She needs a friend right now and I'm sure you do too. She's been in her room at the Fortress since we got back.”

“Okay,” Tim answered her quietly. “Thanks.” He laid back on the couch and rolled over onto his side. He wished he could only imagine how Cassie was feeling. Tears stung at his eyes again but Tim held back his sobs.

“Tim?” he heard. Cassie sounded like she had been crying too. “You there, Timmy?”

He had been nodding. _Right, she couldn't see over the phone._ “Y-yeah, 'm here,” he said thickly, breathing shaky.

Cassie smiled into the phone, tears tracks staining her face as fresh tears made more trails. “I love you, Tim.” She sniffled. “I don't know how well you're holding up, but I know I'm not doing too well. I've been sitting in my room since we got back from the mission. I've been in tears since it happened. I don't even know _what_ happened. One moment, he was standing next to me. We were discussing tactics and then he shot off. The next thing I know, he's laying dead because-because...” She broke down in shuddering sobs. Her blonde hair fell over her face like a veil, shrouding her away from the world that was outside her darkened room. She had her arms wrapped around herself, holding herself together, phone clattering to the floor.

Tim quickly sat up. He didn't know that part. He'd been beating himself up because he _wasn't_ there. She had been there and she still hadn't been able to stop it, but for Bart to just dart out into the line of fire.

Something...Something wasn't right. Tim, again, found himself wishing he had been there. If he had been there, maybe he would be able to assess the situation better. Maybe if he had been there he wouldn't have been able to stop what happened either, but at least he'd know. Bart was probably saving Cassie. Tim knew there had been time and time again where Bart had saved his ass, but if that was the case wouldn't he have been able to dodge a bullet? Figuratively speaking of course, but Bart could relatively dodge anything—Unless it was another speedster. “Shhhh. Shh, Cassie. It's not your fault. It's not your fault at all.” Tim wasn't even sure if Cassie was hearing anything he was saying because he had heard the phone clatter to the floor. “You're okay. It'll be okay. We'll get through this, Cassie. I love you too, hon. Please talk to me. I can't imagine being there and not being able to stop it from happening but it will be okay.”

Jason turned away from the pot of soup to glance at his brother. He could hear the worry in Tim's voice. Good, he was projecting his mental state away from himself and using it to help somebody else.

“I can't say I know how you're feeling, Cass. I really can't. I've been beating myself up about not being there to stop whatever happened from happening. Something inside of me died when Kon died.” The tears were streaming down his face now. “But I picked myself up from it. I came back. I'm resiliant and I know you are too. I thought I couldn't take anything else after Steph died too.” He sobbed and sniffled. “But I'm still-still here. I can't say I haven't had thoughts go through my head in the past day—”

Cassie frantically snatched the cell up again. “Nononononononono! Don't you dare do anything, Tim! I've already lost friends. I can't lose another!” She gasped, another sharp sob escaping her throat. “I love you Tim. You're my brother. I've already lost two others, I can't go through that again.”

“—But I can honestly say I haven't acted on them,” he finished. He chuckled lightly at her reaction. “You won't. You won't, Cassie. I'm still here.” He smiled. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, you'd better not,” Jason told him, setting a bowl of steaming soup down on the side table next to him. Jason plopped down next to him on the couch, snatching the phone from Tim. “Hey, Cass.” Jason lounged on the couch, his legs stretching out over Tim so the smaller boy couldn't take the phone back from Jason.

“Jason, hi.” She paused. “How's he really dealing with it?” she asked him. She knew something was off with her friend but she knew she couldn't ask him and expect a straight answer.

“In shambles to be honest.” Jason eyed Tim and smiled at the look of confusion on his little brother's face. “I found him asleep on my couch when I got back. Though by the time I got the door open, he was sitting stunned on my couch, a pile of stomach bile at his feet. He hasn't eaten in days, no sleep besides the small amount he got on my couch, and running on fumes.”

Cassie groaned and rolled her eyes. “Keep an eye on him for me, please. Smack him in the back of the head for me, Kon, and Bart. Those two are probably rolling where they lay right now. Kiss him for me as well, please?”

Jason grinned. “You should do that one yourself, but I can make good on the other half your request. You'll also like to know that when I mentioned f-o-o-d to him, he vomited as well.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Can you please stop giving her a step-by-step of my day. Also, I know how to spell 'food', smart one.”

Jason chuckled. “Course ya can, ya mini-Einstein.” He sat up and moved his legs and ruffled Tim's hair. “Love ya, Babybird.” He repositioned himself, crossing his legs over Tim, none too gently. “You know, Cassie, you're more than welcome to come spend the night here, that is if Di is willing to let you spend the night with a psychopath.” He chuckled into the phone. “Timmy really needs you now, you know. And you need him. You two, you can help each other because you two know what the other is going through.”

Cassie was silent for a few minutes, breathing into the phone. “I-I don't know. I don't know how she'd react or anything.” Cassie glanced at her bedroom door. It was closed, Diana was elsewhere. “I can ask her and get back to you.”

“Yeah, you both need it.” Jason glanced down at his chest. “And if she'd prefer, it doesn't have to be here and it doesn't have to be around me.” He felt something in chest tighten. He didn't like this. He didn't like relinquishing control but if it meant having his Babybird safe, he'd do it.

“I'll ask and toss around a few ideas with her and get back to you, Jason. Thanks for keeping him safe. I'll talk to you later. Hand me back to Tim so I can say bye?”

“See ya, blondie.” He handed the phone back to Tim.

“He's not a bad guy, you know,” Tim gently told Cassie over the phone. “Honestly, if it weren't for him, I might be dead a few times over.”

“If it weren't for me, Bart, and Kon, you'd be dead a few times over as well,” she told him in a quiet tone. “He bothers me, Tim. He's a killer, you know.”

“He's also my brother,” Tim hissed. He knew Cassie was only trying to look out for him, but her words stung. “And they're not coming back, Cass. Not unless _we_ do something about it.”

“Tim, what are you saying? Tim? Tim!?” Cassie pulled the phone away from her ear. _Call ended._ The line had died. What had happened? She didn't give the phone another look before flying out of her room and searching for Diana.

* * * * * *

Jason looked over at Tim, eying him, trying to read him. He'd just hung up on Cassie and Jason didn't like the glint in his little brother's eye. The crazy gleam in Tim's eye looked reminiscent of something else, something that haunted him through death, and something that he so wished he could get away from. “What the hell was that about?” He was sitting up on the couch but his legs were still pinning Tim down. Something was wrong and he hoped to God that his first thoughts weren't correct.

That manic grin that was tugging at the edges of Tim's mouth said otherwise though, but Jason ignored it. Ignored the crazy clown grin that was pulling at Tim's mouth just like he was ignoring the insane gleam in his eyes. “Oh, nothing,” he sang.

“Tim, eat,” Jason ordered. This wasn't good. This was probably nearing as far from good as one could get with just the two of them. “Or I will feed you myself.”

Tim's eyes flashed and he grinned, looking like a cheshire cat. “Maybe you should, big boy.” He patted his thigh—Or he tried to. He ended up patting Jason's leg instead. “Sit right here on my lap.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. What the hell was this kid playing at? He studied Tim closely. There were no outward signs of danger. The psychotic grin turned more relaxed, a lustful glint in Tim's eye instead of a psychotic one. Jason briefly wondered just how mentally stable Tim was. He shifted so that his legs were no longer on Tim, but instead he was holding the boy tightly to his side so he didn't run. “Why don't we talk about Dick?” Jason asked him, desperately trying to change the subject.

Tim practically purred. “Yes,” he agreed, looking up at Jason through his eyelashes. “Why don't we talk about _yours_?” He touched Jason's thigh and stroked his leg, trying to work his hand between Jason's legs but Jason shot off the couch before he could do anything.

“Whoa, Babybird!” he yelled, arms out, hands up. “What the hell? Are you coming on to me?” He could feel his ears burning. He **_really_ ** needed to contact Dick, but making sure Tim didn't need to be put in a straightjacket took priority.

“Well, you wanted to talk about dick,” Tim said, lust thick in his voice, the cheshire grin playing on his lips again. He was moving off the couch toward Jason with very cat-like movements.

Jason's eyes widened at the advances. He ran into the kitchen. “Yeah, our _brother_ Dick,” Jason clarified in exasperation. What the hell was with this kid? This wasn't his Timmy—Was it?

Tim whined and slightly deflated, walking back to the couch and slumping down on it. He reached over and pulled his bowl of soup over to himself. He put it to his mouth and tipped it upward, drinking it out of the bowl. “Okay, fine,” he grumbled. “At least he would have known what was going on,” he mumbled to himself, setting the bowl down again.

“What was that, Babybird?” Jason asked, walking back over to the couch, some napkins in hand. He sat back down next to Tim and handed them to him.

“I didn't say anything,” Tim lied. “Anyway, I don't want to go to Dick because he's off consoling Wally.” Tim looked away from Jason and turned his attention out the window. “At first, I was thinking that he'd show up. I didn't want him to, but it's Dick, you know? He was the worst timing and the best timing and it's annoying because it's all at the same time.” He was silent, staring out the window.

Jason was patient with him, waiting silently for him to continue speaking.

“I thought that maybe, just maybe, the news hadn't reached him yet. And then I got thinking. Bart was Wally's cousin, there's no way Dick _wouldn’t_ know about what happened. Wally and Dick are close so, of course, Wally went to Dick for support.” He looked back at Jason. “I know it sounds stupid, but I just got the feeling that Dick forgot about me—Like he pushed me to the back burner or something.” He shook his head. “I just felt like dying,” he quietly confided. “I thought about going home, maybe I could spar, feel the pain of getting beaten—feeling _something_ physical _—_ anything besides the constant emotional pain. I thought about asking Damian if he wanted to spar, but that would have sent all kinds of red flags up around the manor, because he and I never spar without reason—Just as well, he probably would have killed me anyway.” Tim sighed and blinked back tears that threatened to fall again. “I thought about fighting Cass as well,” he let out a shaky breath, then continued, “but she'd be able to read me too easily and I just wouldn't be able to take that.” He smiled at Jason, it was small but it was there. “My mind went to you instead.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I was thinking that even if the Bats knew what was going on, you're still detached enough from the family that you would have no idea, so I could spar with you and you wouldn't question why I went down so easily.” He let out a few shaky breaths. “But when I got here you weren't here, so I came in through the window.” He glanced at the window above the computer desk that he jumped through. “I was honestly thinking the window would be rigged,” he admitted to Jason. He looked down at his feet. “I'm sorry,” he said, leaning into Jason. “I don't mean to worry you.” He looked up at Jason with sparkling eyes.

Jason sat there, stunned, his mouth slightly agape. Tim really did have a death-wish. “I'm not letting you out of my sight,” he told Tim with wide eyes. He glanced down at his brother. “I don't care what Diana says, I'm not leaving you. You need people more than ever right now.” He glanced around at his apartment. It was small. With three people, it would be easily cramped, but Jason had an idea. “I can think of others who need people right now as well. I'm gonna call Clark. I bet he's missing Conner as much as you are.”

Tim nodded. “A-all right. Yeah.” He reached over and picked the pamphlet up again. “Jason, before you go, what's this?”

Jason looked at Tim, confused. “You don't have one?” He watched Tim shake his head. The kid looked so small and scared. “Dick made one of those for all of the Bats.”

Fear shot across Tim's face again. “Then why don't I have one?” he asked, voice breaking. He felt left out again, but this time he didn't know if he should break down into tears or hysterics. Despite his inward feelings, he was able to keep his voice calm.

Jason studied Tim, never breaking eye contact. “I don't know, but Dick didn't leave you out, Babybird. I know he didn't. He would never do that.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I'm gonna call Clark now and then call Di and Cassie—let them know that reception here sucks.” He winked at Tim who flushed but nodded. He didn't break eye contact with Tim when he asked, “Is it alright if I call Dick as well?” He studied the emotions that crossed Tim's face but they all flitted past too quick, it was hard to tell—irritation, annoyance, anger, before finally landing on his poker face.

“Fine,” he told Jason in even tones, lounging on the couch again, stealing Jason's spot as soon as he rose from the couch. Tim opened up the pamphlet again and continued where he left off. “Don't think I'll be too pleased when he comes around though.” He glanced at Jason in his peripheral vision—he didn't turn his head away from the pamphlet. “I won't run away from him, but I won't be constantly at his side either.” He turned his eyes back to the book.

Jason shook his head when Tim turned his attention back to the book. “I'm not expecting you to, but I _guarantee_ he's worried sick about you, Babybird,” Jason informed him gently. He leaned down and ruffled Tim's hair—much to the younger boy's chagrin—opened the door and walked outside.

Tim sighed, fixed his hair, and turned back to the book.

  * Throw darts at a dart board—Or a wall, or cork board. Just make it somewhere that you can easily place a target.




_Does it **need** to be a board? _ Tim found himself wondering after the door closed. He glared daggers at the door, thinking of how he would like to make Jason's _face_ a target. Temples were twenty points, eyes were ten points, square between the eyes could be fifteen or twenty-five points.

Tim glanced over at his bowl. He still hadn't finished his soup. He put down the pamphlet and continued to drink his soup. He finished it within a few minutes and actually felt better. He set the bowl down and picked the pamphlet back up, continuing where he left off.

  * Go for a run—Falls in with physical movement. :3 (It's a kitty)




Either Dick had been hyper, Damian had been tired, or Cass got a hold of it. Tim honestly coulnd't tell which because the handwriting looked identical and he knew both Damian and Cass were great forgers. Then again, if Damian was tired, his attention to detail was lacking so that only narrowed it down to a hyper, overly-energized Dick or Cass.

  * Write your feelings on paper then rip it up—Really. This is a GREAT de-stresser. It's the same as writing an angry email and then deleting it.




Tim nodded. He'd done that before. Several times. Mostly to Bruce, some to the demon child, and one to Jason. He had deleted them all and it really had helped.

  * Use stress relievers—Qigong balls and worry stones are perfect. Also, so are squeeze balls. They're a perfect for substitute for when you want to strangle somebody.




Tim thought about that. If he were going to get anything, it would have to be a squeeze ball. He'd be too tempted to throw the others at the person he was irritated with. Jason for example. He'd want to throw it at the back of Damian's head when he flaunted just how much better than Tim he was. A squeeze ball would be better than strangling Damian. It would have been nice to have at his apartment when he got that call too.

  * Build a fort of pillows and then destroy it—This is fun. This is a good group activity.




Tim thought about it. Building a pillow fort sounded childish, but he knew it would be something that Dick would want to partake in.

  * Throw ice cubes at the bathtub wall, at a tree, etc—Just not people.




Tim closed the pamphlet and walked over to Jason's freezer. He pulled out an almost full tray of ice cubes and walked into Jason's bathroom. That one sounded very tempting and he was tired of just sitting around and not doing anything. He was angry at Dick for leaving him, he was angry at Jason for even _thinking_ it would be okay for him to call Dick, he was angry at Cassie for not having the same thoughts he was, he was angry at Bart for dying, and he was angry at Kon for not being around to help him with anything. Mostly though, he was angry with himself for the way he was feeling. He knew Kon and Bart wouldn't want him to be depressed. He knew that they would do everything that was in their power to turn his mood around.

_But they weren't!_

He pulled his arm back and threw the ice cube against the wall angrily. The cube shattered.

_Stupid demon thinking he's better than me at_ EVERYTHING!

He threw two more ice cubes, this time at the same time. Tears were running down his face. “Stupid demon child! Stupid, fucking _demon_ !” He took another ice cube. “Always thinking he's better than I am at _EVERY_ THING! I HATE HIM! I HATE EVERYONE!” He screamed and threw another ice cube at the wall.

* * * * * *

“Tim isn't there with you, is he?” Dick asked, frantic and in a rush—most likely pacing and panicking about the young bird. Jason could imagine him with a hand wound in his hair, pulling at it, worrying about the kid, making sure he isn't doing something reckless.

“Dick.” Silence. “Dick, relax.” Still silence, probably still pacing. “Dick, Tim is fine.” Hand still worrying his hair. “Richard!”

Dick froze in his tracks. “I am not fifty,” he shot back.

“Keep worrying the way you are and you'll look it,” Jason informed him. “I don't have to see you to know that you're pacing the floor with your hand knotted in your hair. Knock it off. Tim is fine. He's here with me.”

“He's okay, right? I mean, no cutting or reckless behavior or—”

“Dick, knock it off. Tim is coping. He's eating. I made him some soup after consulting Clark about what to do.” He rolled his eyes at the phone. “Stop frowning, Dick. It's unbefitting of you. I would have called you but Tim requested that I didn't.”

“Why?” Dick whined.

“Dick, stop biting your lip. He's terrified that you pushed him to the back burner.” Dick whined in the background. “He thinks Wally means more to you than he does, Dick.”

Dick made a noise of exasperation in the background. “I can't help if Wally is fast on his feet,” he whined. “It's not like I was waiting for him. After I got the news of Bart's death, I was literally stepping out my door when I got intercepted by Wally.”

“Shhh. Don't do this to me. I don't know how to handle you when you're in tears, Dick. He's stablized. He talked to Cassie. I gave him food after speaking with Clark and getting his advice on what I should do.” Jason shook his head. “Babybird has a serious death-wish, Dick. You know how I tell you guys not to break in to my apartment when I'm gone because I tell you it's rigged?”

Dick nodded. “Which it isn't, but go on.”

“You know that, I know that, Bruce knows that, but _Timmy_ does **not** know that. He _**broke into my apartment**_ , Dick. He broke in _expecting_ it to be **rigged**!” Jason hissed in a whispered yell to Dick.

Dick was silent. Most likely in shock. “What...?”

“He's in shambles, Dick and I don't know what to do. He hung up on Cassie after insinuating doing something to bring Conner and Bart back and then that look in his eyes and that twisted smile on his face.... Dick, what is going on with him? After that, his whole demeanor changed and he came on to me. I told him that maybe we should talk you and then he made it into some kind of innuendo.” Jason ran his hands through his hair. “There's something else going on with Tim, isn't there?”

Dick started pacing again. “Jason, after all of this is taken care of and Tim is stable again, I'll explain it to you. It's something that happened while you were still six feet under, so it's completely understandable that you're out of the loop.”

Jason nodded. “Tim takes precedence right now. Also, Dick, you know that self-harm alternative book you made sure we all got? The whole packet thing? Tim didn't get one and if he did, he doesn't remember.”

Dick stopped pacing, but kept his hand in his hair and continued gnawing on his lip. “He should have...” he said slowly. “I typed them up, I gave a packet to Bruce to look over, and then...I handed them all out to you guys.” He looked around and groaned in irritation. “I gave Damian his when he came back, I gave you yours in person, Cassie helped me make them up...I gave Bruce one to look over...” Dick snapped his fingers and made an excited exclaimation. “Bruce must still have it because I remember telling him that he should be the one to give Tim his.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Great, that was years ago when I passed those out.”

Jason sighed. Of course Bruce would forget. “Well, don't tell Tim that or he'll just feel worse. You track down that packet. I'm gonna call Clark and Di because I don't want to leave Babybird alone but I think he and Cassie need to spend time together. I know Di would have an issue leaving Cassie with me, so I was thinking that everybody could get together at the Tower.”

There was silence before Dick asked a question at the same time Jason heard screaming from inside. “Is that screaming I hear?”

“Uh-huh,” Jason answered, completely white. He ran through the apartment door and looked for the source of the screaming.

* * * * * *

Tim heard the front door fly open and quelled his screaming, instead collapsing down to the bathroom floor, holding himself, tears streaming down his face.

Jason ran over to him and took the wounded bird into his arms, hugging closely to his chest. He took the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker. “It's okay, Babybird. Shh... Shh...” Jason stroked Tim's hair, petting him gently.

“Timmy, I'm so sorry,” Dick told him through the phone. “I didn't put you on the back burner, love. Wally got to me first. I promise I had been leaving my house to come to you. I panicked when I got to your apartment and you weren't there. I was freaking out thinking something had happened to you. I love you, baby.”

Tim sniffled in Jason's arms. “I love you too, Dick.”

“I miss you. Can I come over?”

“I think it's needed, Dick,” Jason answered for Tim.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I make this into a series because the scene that comes next is a lemon. Or should I just write the lemon into the fic? I don't know how else to write this without Timmy getting so worked up and frustrated that he loses his cool and goes off on someone. With the place he is in right now, Tim will either go off on Damian or hurt himself, both things most likely being because of something Damian says.
> 
> Anyway, things are good with my grandpa. Thank you guys! He's coming home Saturday. The doctor is giving him new medicine.


	4. Hot and Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys. No lemon. The characters kept fighting me on it. There's internal controversy in Tim though. Also, 500 hits? In a week? Thank you guys! I love you so much!
> 
> Something sure smelled good. He glanced into the kitchen and saw Dick and Jason tending to the oven. When had Dick gotten there? What time was it? How long had he been out? The last thing he remembered was talking to Cassie, comforting her over the phone. Did he fall asleep on the phone again? He shrugged to himself. Oh well, he'd make it up to her later.

Dick practically flew through the front door when he arrived at Jason's apartment. He closed the front door behind him “I'm here,” he said into the phone.

Jason rolled his eyes. “No shit. Stealth isn't exactly natural to you, is it? We're in the bathroom.” Jason hung up. He understood why Dick wanted to stay on the line until he got to the apartment, but were all the sound effects really necessary?

Dick gently opened the bathroom door and smiled. Tim was nuzzled up against Jason, eyes closed. Jason had his arms wrapped around the Babybird who was folded into his lap. Jason had his legs spread with Tim between them and Tim had his legs off to the side, feet buried under Jason's knee. Dick leaned down, gently stroking Tim's hair. Tim looked up at him dazedly and a small smile crossed his face. Dick leaned in closer, dipping his head down to kiss Tim's tear stained cheeks. He kissed every individual tear track before sinking down next to Tim, who stayed close to Jason. It hurt Dick, but he understood. He wasn't there when his Babybird needed him, and he should have been. “I'm sorry, Tim,” Dick said, leaning against him and, in turn, Jason as well.

Tim inhaled shakily, obviously trying to fight another wave of tears. “I don't know what to do. I want them back. There has to be a way to get them back.” He stopped rambling and glared at Dick. “Aren't you supposed to be off comforting Wally or Barry or somebody?” he shot at him bitterly.

Dick pulled off of him and leaned back, head bowed. “I'm sorry, Timmy. Really, I am. I was on my way out of my house when Wally was suddenly inside needing to talk.”

“So, what?” Tim asked him, sitting up in Jason’s arms, anger lighting up his eyes. He was angry and he couldn't hold it back anymore. He didn't want to. “He gets to you first, and you comfort him first?” he snapped at Dick angrily. Tim was hurt, angsty, and emotionally exhausted. He knew he shouldn't have been saying these things to Dick, that he shouldn't have been snapping at his older brother like this. He should have just gone to the manor and had a sparring match with Damian. A sparring match is what he needed right now—but with the physical condition he was in, it wouldn't have been a good idea. He would have been called on it. No, maybe it was best he was here, getting his feelings out to Dick and being held back by Jason so there was no physical harm done to to the eldest. Tim knew Dick could take it but that wouldn't stop Tim from feeling horrible later on.

“Why don't we finish this conversation in the bedroom?” Jason suggested. He wanted to add _where it's safer_ but no place in his apartment was truly _safe,_ the bedroom least of all. But he was tired of being on the bathroom floor. He wanted something with a bit more cush. He also wanted food, but that had been pushed down to the bottom of his list of things to do. In his panic about Tim, he must have forgotten his own need to eat. It happened a lot with Roy too, but Roy caught it for him a lot and made him eat—by that, I mean the two ordered take-out and ate it together. God forbid, Roy should ever be allowed to cook in a kitchen. Or anywhere else for that matter, but now we're getting way off topic. Jason groaned. Why had he been thinking about food? Now he was feeling the gnawing hunger. It didn't help that his stomach was talking to him.

Tim chuckled. “Why don't we go out into the living room instead and order some food?” Tim suggested. “You haven't eaten since you've gotten in and I think I might be able to stomach something more than soup.”

“I want something homemade,” Dick threw out.

Tim glared at him. “I'm not going to back to the manor. I'm not dealing with everyone. Not now, not yet. I'd cook something here, but this place isn't stalked for meal cooking. Not what I want, anyway,” Tim told them. He didn't even have to browse in the cupboards to know that much. “Although,” Tim started with a look at Jason, “if we could go grocery shopping tomorrow, that'd be swell.”

“Dude, who says that anymore?” Jason asked him. “That word is dated. You're not fifty.”

“No, no, not what I mean,” Dick told them. “Although, that would be a really great stress relief for you, Tim.” Dick smiled at the younger boy who just rolled his eyes. “I left my backpack on the couch. I actually have a lot of things I brought with me.” He stood up and helped Tim up as well. Tim tried to help Jason up but the other boy seemed quite content standing up on his own. “I brought some things that Alfred made. He made some dishes specifically to send here actually. Clark stopped over and told him and Bruce what happened and Alfred hasn't stopped cooking since. I think they're both pretty worried about you guys,” Dick informed them with a ruffle of Tim's hair and a grin toward Jason.

“I know something else that's a pretty good stress relief,” Tim muttered irritably, but there was something else in his tone, something darker.

Dick gave Tim an uneasy glance and glanced at Jason before glancing back at Tim. Dick knew Tim was mentally unsteady, knew he was unbalanced.

Tim nodded toward Jason, eyes still locked on Dick's. “Boy Blunder here didn't understand my come-on earlier.”

And then it clicked with Dick. Without hesitation, he surged forward, taking Tim's lower lip into his own mouth and biting it hard enough to receive a light yelp from Tim. Dick tasted the iron tang of blood and pulled back, Tim sucking on his lip to ease the pain. “Behave,” he sternly ordered Tim—Although, at this point he wasn't sure if this was fully Tim anymore. “His name is Jason. He is your brother,” Dick firmly reminded Tim.

“Ow,” Tim muttered, glaring darkly at Dick.

Both Dick and Jason saw the damage that was done, Dick smirking at his handiwork. Tim now had a split lip. “Stop running your mouth or I'll do it again.”

Jason gave them both a confused look and walked out of the bathroom, his hands in the air. He was done being confused. He concluded that he didn't want to know, didn't want to ask questions. “I don't know, I don't want to know, whatever it is between you two... I'll leave you two at it. Just clean up the mess when you're done.”

“Aww, you're no fun,” Tim said, running to catch up with Jason. “You mean to tell me you wouldn't want to join in the fun?” he purred.

Jason stopped, staring Tim in the eye. His voice sounded like silk and that look in his eye was a combination of the crazy gleam and lust-filled looks from earlier. He blinked, looking away, toward the kitchen and then back at Dick, a questioning look on his face.

“Just roll with it,” Dick mouthed. He mouthed something else too, something Jason couldn't catch. For all of his training with Bruce, Jason was still bad at reading lips.

 _Roll with what?_ Jason was thoroughly confused when he looked back at Tim. “What I want to do right now is eat.” He took a few steps forward, his attention on the living room and Dick's bag. “Actually, I want to see what Dick brought from the manor.” He was stopped by Tim again and Jason stared at him, brow furrowing and his eyes narrowing at the youngest bird. “What you and Dick do is between the two of you.”

Tim smirked at Jason. “I have something else you can eat, big boy.” His tone was suggestive, the words were lewd, the gleam in his eye was something that he had never seen from Tim before—everything about the way he was behaving was so unlike the Tim he knew.

Jason didn't know what to do or what was happening. All he knew was that Tim's lips were suddenly on his. Jason tasted the blood from Tim's lip in his mouth and he didn't know what to do so his reflexes took over, pushing Tim off of him. “What the hell?” he growled at Tim.

Dick was suddenly at Tim's side, his hand locked in Tim's hair, yanking his head back. Tim hissed through his teeth, not amused by this sudden turn of events. “Calm. Down,” Dick hissed in his ear. “Let him eat or we don't play.” He shoved Tim away. “You should eat too.”

Jason had no idea what was going on between the two and he wasn't sure what he was feeling. He was still extremely confused but now there was a new feeling mixed with it. He wasn't sure if he was repulsed and disgusted by the way Dick was treating Tim—and by the way Tim seemed to be bouncing back from it—or if it was a feeling of arousal from seeing the rough way Dick was handling Tim. He concluded it was a mix of both after he fought off a moan from just imagining what it would feel like to have Dick's hand wound in his hair like that, yanking him around and hissing in his ear.

Tim chuckled. “Looks like Red here is getting all worked up over what he's seeing.” His eyes were dark and his tone was low as he circled Jason, studying him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the way his heart pounded erratically, the tinge of pink in his cheeks—Tim wasn't sure if that was from embarrassment or arousal; perhaps both. Tim cupped Jason's ass in his hand, causing Jason to jump slightly at the unexpected contact.

Within the next three seconds, Dick's hand was again wound in Tim's hair. “Behave you little monstrosity. Keep it up and we won't play again for the next three months.” Tim whined and tried to pull away. Dick studied Tim over and smirked at the bulge in Tim's pants. “If you're really that worked up, warm the bed up for us.”

“But it's no fun playing alone.” Dick wound his hand tighter in Tim's hair causing Tim to whine breathily. “It's always more fun with a playmate.” He looked up at Dick, eyes dark with need.

“Then let him eat. You need sustenance as well. Patience is a virtue, you know.” Dick rolled his eyes. “Not that you're exactly virtuous,” he sighed.

“Fine, fine, whatever.” Tim waved Dick away and sighed, walking off to the couch, taking Dick's bag to the kitchen, and picking up the pamphlet again.

  * Get out a fine tooth comb and vigorously brush the fur of a stuffed animal—but use gentle vigor. You don't want to hurt it.




Hmm... Sounded simple enough in his opinion. Tim glanced away from the pamphlet and saw Dick removing various containers of food. “What the hell was that about?” Jason seemed very perturbed. Before saying anything, he knew that Dick would make sure he wasn't paying attention. Tim knew how to fake that though, his ears catching the whole conversation.

Dick did glance over at Tim, just like he thought he would. And then he turned to Jason while Tim kept his nose in the pamphlet. “That's not Tim, not completely,” he heard Dick say quietly. Tim didn't need to look up to know that Jason's brow was furrowed in confusion. His tone gave it away.

“What do you mean that's not Tim?” Jason glanced over at him. “That's Tim.”

“I said not completely,” Dick told him. “Physically, yes, but he's not all there mentally.”

Now Tim decided to completely tune out the conversation. How dare Dick say that he's not completely with it mentally. Sure he was. He was never better.

Tim felt like biting Dick everywhere, drawing blood, making him scream. Tim wanted a blood bath and he wanted it in Dick's blood. He wanted to fuck Jason. He wanted them to know who was in control. He wanted to dominate.

He squirmed on the couch. He needed release. He could feel his jeans tightening at the thoughts of blood and domination. He knew it was twisted, but the thoughts were so tantalizing.

“What do you mean, he's not all there mentally?” Jason asked Dick. Good god, what the hell had he missed? He couldn't help being dead when it happened, but damn. He wished somebody had at least told him _something_. Oh wait. The only people who _could_ tell him anything wouldn't. Bruce wouldn't tell him if anything happened to Tim. Bruce was probably under the impression that Jason didn't care. And Dick—Dick probably figured that he was too cut off from the rest of the family to really care or worry or anything along those lines. He was probably under the impression that Jason didn't know how to be a good brother.

Jason thought back to earlier, when Tim was laughing and choking on stomach bile. Was that a normal thing? He supposed that it depended on what Tim had been laughing about. If he had been laughing about the fact that he had been choking... But Tim wouldn't do that. _Why_ would _anyone_ **laugh** about themselves choking? He thought back to the look Tim had in his eyes after he hung up with Cassie. That insane gleam looked reminiscent of the crazy, lifeless gleam that shone in Joker's eyes when he was beating him with the crowbar and laughing about it. And that manic grin—Jason visibly shuddered. Dick was at his side, rubbing his back in small circles. Jason shook his head. “Never mind, I'd prefer if you told me later,” Jason told him.

* * * * * *

Tim shook his head. Not completely himself? He scoffed. He was himself, he was just broken.

  * Slice an empty plastic soda bottle or piece of heavy cardboard or an old shirt or sock—Do this as many times as needed. Clothes that don't fit right are perfect for this.




Could he do this with a stuffed animal instead? Possibly a bat? He could start with the wings.

  * Make a soft cloth doll to represent the things you are angry at; cut and tear at it instead of yourself—It also works if you are mad at yourself. Please please please! Damage a cloth representation of yourself instead of actually hurting yourself.




He wanted to hurt himself, to cut that Joker smile into his face, it would have been his initiation right as JJ. He would have had a family, a mom and dad. Instead he was living his life as a kidnapped child, sharing a body with the child Joker had tried to break. It wasn't fair! He wanted his father.

  * Flatten aluminum cans for recycling—See how fast you can go. Make a game of it.




Could he cut himself in the process? Either by accident or on purpose, he wouldn't mind. Just as long as blood was involved. Nobody needed to know it was on purpose.

  * On a sketch or photo of yourself, mark in red ink what you want to do. Cut and tear the picture—Please don't keep it. Mark the photo, pouring your negative thoughts into it, tear it up, and throw it way, tearing your negative thoughts into pieces, clearing the air and clearing your aura.




Tim shook his head. If he did this, he would keep it, not for himself, but for others, to let them know just who was the stronger personality.

  * Break sticks—This is great fun. You can snap single sticks or try as much as you can to break a bundle of sticks. Alfred requests you don't do this in the house though.




He shook his head. It sounded rather juvenile, in his opinion.

  * Cut up fruit—Please clean up any and all juice splattering. This is a pamphlet handed out to all the Batkids. I can only imagine how this will go. None of you seem to do anything in a simple manner.




Tim snorted a laugh. It was Bruce's handwriting. All the Bats knew exactly how this was going to go. It would turn into a game of live action fruit ninja.

He set the pamphlet aside. Something sure smelled good. He glanced into the kitchen and saw Dick and Jason tending to the oven. When had Dick gotten there? He stood up and stretched. What time was it? How long had he been out? The last thing he remembered was talking to Cassie, comforting her over the phone. Did he fall asleep on the phone again? He shrugged to himself. Oh well, he'd make it up to her later.

Tim bounced into the kitchen and gave Dick a hug. His older brother was confused at first but hugged him back. “How's Wally?” he asked. He looked over at Jason who was gawking at the scene like they had both grown another head. “Did you tell Cassie bye for me? I should call her back and apologize for falling asleep on her. I feel better now that I've had a nap.”

“But you—” Jason started and stopped when Dick glared at him. He sighed and lied to Tim. “Yeah, I told her bye for you. She understands. You've had a hard night.”

“Wally is doing as well as you can expect. He's spending time with Barry and Hal and Iris. How are you doing, kid?”

“I miss him, Dick,” he sniffled. “This is going to be hard.” Another wave of tears.

Dick made quiet shushing noises while he rubbed Tim's back. “It's okay. It's all right to cry. We all have people we miss.” He started humming _The Man on the Flying Trapeze_ to Tim, a song that his mom would sing to him. He smiled when Tim pulled away.

“Thanks,” Tim said with a smile, wiping his tears away.

“Okay, can we eat?” Jason was so confused. He just wanted to eat, lay down, and...perhaps just stay in bed until everything was explained to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this was confusing. Tim has a split personality--if that wasn't made obvious in this chapter. Poor Tim is broken. Until things are explained, Jason is going to continue being pissy and pouty toward Dick.
> 
> I feel like a bad person because I feel like I'm intentionally dragging Tim through mud. But I'm not. This is a headcanon I've had for quite a while and I'm just finally able to put it in print.


	5. Joker Junior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight sexual content. Yeah.
> 
> “In the back,” Jason told him. “I'm driving and you both are going to tell me what is going on. It's safer for you both if I drive that way I can tighten my grip around the steering wheel if I have to rather than around your throats,” he told them hotly. Dick climbed into the back seat and Jason took off, fast and extremely furious. “First, I'm going to start by asking why the maniacal gleams and twisted smiles I keep seeing remind me of Joker and you're going to assure me that Joker didn't get his hands on two Robins. And then I'm going to inquire why Tim is being so two-faced and you are going to be come up with something to tell me for that as well.”

The boys finished eating, Jason first, followed by Dick, and lastly was Tim who ate and ate like it was the first thing he'd eaten in days, which, besides the soup, it probably was. Jason wandered off to the bedroom while Tim finished eating.

Tim glanced at Dick when Jason left the room. “The switch happened again, didn't it?” he asked, playing his tongue over his split lip. He grimaced at the coppery flavor that he tasted. “How bad was he?” Dick only drew blood when it was absolutely necessary.

“He called Jason _Boy Blunder_ after seriously confusing the crap out him and scaring him.”

Tim's eyebrows shot up at that. “Scaring him? What happened?”

“JJ hung up on Cassie and then came onto Jason with a mad gleam in his eye, you know that one that I've told you that turns lustful.” Tim nodded. Dick informed him of things that happened whenever he came back around. “JJ put him into a panic with crazy gleam and the twisted grin, probably reminded him of the Joker. Jason told JJ that we needed to talk and JJ turned my name into a crude innuendo,” Dick explained to him. “Then after I got here, I found you—not realizing it was him—curled up in Jason's lap. While in his lap he made the Boy Blunder comment, I bit him, and then he kept coming onto Jason even after he left the bathroom.”

Tim laughed. “Looks like you used your teeth a little too early,” he joked.

“Don't I know it,” Dick muttered, dragging his hand over his face. “And I thought you could be a handful.” Tim chuckled and Dick eyed him through the gaps between his fingers. “Really, breaking in here knowing it could very well be rigged?” he asked Tim in exasperation. “You know I'd never forget you.”

Tim sighed. “He is me, Dick. It's very hard to separate his consciousness from mine at times. I was sad, he was desperate. We're both affected by all the deaths, just in different ways. We're both broken, Dick. It wasn't just me who was close with Bart. _I'm_ not the one who feels pushed to the back-burner. I don't feel like that unless I haven't seen you in ages. And, well, it seems that he and I have the same sort of tastes when it comes to people.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “You have a thing for Jason?” he asked Tim.

Tim felt his face burning, his attention going downward to the erection that felt almost painful. “Yes,” muttered. “How much did you have your hand in JJ's hair?” he asked through a shut mouth.

“He wasn't behaving,” Dick explained to him.

“Dick, that's a _turn on_. For both of us. We found that out with Kon. You can't tell me you didn't know that. Not after all the times...” Tim trailed off. He really shouldn't have to explain all of this information to Dick.

Dick smirked. “Well then, I guess we'll just have to surprise Jason.”

Tim shook his head. “You three have fun. I'll be in the background.” He sighed. “I really wish I knew how to astral travel.”

Dick chuckled and stood up, putting all three plates in the sink. “You two have fun with Jay. I'll be in after I finish cleaning up.” He smirked and winked at Tim, who blushed.

“Yeah, we-we'll do that.” Tim stood up and looked at Dick. “I'll be in the background when you get in, by the way. I'll have probably passed out or something. Just-just a quick fyi.”

“Aww,” Dick cooed. “Babybird nervous?” He laughed quietly and walked over to stand in front of Tim. Dick tilted Tim's head up and leaned down, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips. He pulled back with a smile. “You'll do fine,” he said with a light ruffle of Tim's hair.

“He's already confused. Do we really want to confuse him more? And I'm not telling him what's going on with me,” Tim told Dick quite firmly.

“You won't have to, Babybird. You leave that to me.” Dick flashed him with a dazzling smile. “Now go,” he said with a chuckle.

Tim left the kitchen and walked down the darkened hall. He quietly pushed the door open and was met with quiet noises and more darkness. Tim was glad that the hall light was off as he quietly entered the room and gently closed the door behind him. He tugged his shoes off as best he could while trying to stay quiet. Tim hoped Jason didn't notice him almost fall over while tugging off his right shoe. Instead, Tim was met by a breathy moan and he did his best to stifle a moan of his own. Then crawled into the bed next to Jason. Tim noticed awkwardly that Jason was naked and _he had to have noticed the extra weight in the bed, right?_ But Jason didn't so much as bat an eyelash and it was maddening to Tim.

* * * * * *

Jason was acutely aware of his bedroom door opening. He smirked to himself, jerking himself under the blankets—not hard, but enough to keep himself going. He was whining quietly imagining that it was Dick was teasing him or, god forbid, his Babybird. His laugh when Tim almost fell over when he was trying to covertly take his shoes off turned into a breathy moan. Jason felt the bed move slightly when Tim crawled in next to him, still clothed. He did his best not to crack a grin at the young bird who was studying him deeply. Instead he concentrated on himself, tugging on his erection.

After another minute, Jason pulled his hand off his dick and reached his hand out to Tim, pulling him closer and chuckled when he gasped. “Not so saucy anymore, eh, Timmy?” Jason asked.

Instead, he seemed shy with the bright shade of red he was turning. Jason pulled him into a kiss and he went rigid—he almost stopped breathing. A moan escaped his lips when Jason palmed him through his jeans. He pushed himself into Jason's hand, his eyes rolling back.

Jason chuckled. “You're a little slut, ain't ya, Timmy?” Jason teased languidly.

Tim moaned out, loud and obscene. God, he hated being so simple, but it felt so good—the attention he wanted, _needed_. He whined when Jason pushed his hips down onto the bed, his breathing getting breathier. He whined when Jason stopped palming him, whimpered when Jason played his zipper. His breath caught in his throat when Jason ducked down and started unzipping his jeans with his teeth. He popped the button open with his teeth as well. “Jay...Jason...” he whined.

Jason tugged Timmy's pants off and threw them on the floor. He curled his fingers under the waistband of Tim's boxers but a hand stopped him. Jason looked over and saw Tim's hand over his. Jason looked at him in confusion.

“Wait,” Tim told him. “I want to make you feel good.”

Jason smirked up at him and continued playing with the waistband. “But don't I get my dessert?” he asked Timmy with an innocent look his eye. “I ate all my dinner like a good little boy.” He tugged the boxers down and took Tim's hard length in his hand. He slowly ran his tongue along the sensitive vein in Tim's dick. He started at the base and went upward, eliciting a soft moan from Tim. “I thought good little boys who ate their dinner got dessert.” Jason looked up at Tim lustily and felt his cock twitch at the expression of pleasure on Tim's face—his eyes were closed, his mouth was open in a slight 'o', and his face was tinged pink. “Besides, you offered it to me,” Jason said teasingly, his lips just barely on the sensitive head of Tim's length, brushing against it as he spoke. Tim's hips jerked forward but Jason pulled back. “We play by my rules, Babybird.”

Tim whined. “Jay...Jay, please...”

“Please what, Baby?” Jason asked with a smirk.

“Oh, goody, I see I haven't missed much,” Dick said, pouncing on the bed.

Jason turned to him and fought the urge to slam Dick's head into the pillows. He must have been too engrossed in teasing Tim to even notice the door open or close or anything.

Dick left Jason to continue teasing Tim, a whine of, “Suck me off,” coming from Tim's lips.

Jason chuckled, grasping Tim in a hand. “Good, but I'm still looking for a word, Babybird.” He jerked him once while Dick worked Tim's boxers off.

“Please,” he moaned.

“Please, what, Babybird?” Dick whispered huskily in Tim's ear. “What do you want him to do to you, _JJ_?” Dick asked him, growling out his name in his ear, so he knew Dick was aware of the switch again.

“Please, unngh... Suck me off...Jay.” His hips bucked when Jason took his whole length into his mouth and down his throat. “Jason...” JJ moaned out, his hands tangling themselves in Jason's hair. It felt so good. He moaned and bucked into Jason's mouth when he felt Dick playing with his hot hole. He felt Dick insert a finger and he pushed back against it.

It seemed that as soon as Dick had entered his finger, though, he removed it as well. JJ didn't know what Dick was doing but didn't care as he felt Jason swirl his tongue around the sensitive head of his dick. He moaned loudly when he felt another tongue—Dick's tongue—playing with his hole. He dragged his tongue in a circular motion over the ring of tight muscles. Dick teased him by pushing the tip of his tongue in and pulling out again.

JJ whined. “Dick...Dick...don't...tease...”

Dick pulled away, a grin on his face and a dark look in his eye. He brought his hand up to JJ's mouth and inserted two fingers into his mouth. “Suck,” he ordered.

JJ was obedient, sucking Dick's fingers excitedly. He swirled his tongue all over Dick's fingers and Dick pulled them out of his mouth with an obscene popping noise.

He slowly inserted them into JJ's hole and grinned when the boy pushed himself onto them. “Don't ever say I'm pushing you to the back-burner,” he growled in JJ's ear, roughly fingering his backside.

“I'M NOT YOUR FUCKING PET!” JJ shouted, pulling away from Dick and Jason. He jumped off the bed and stopped by the door. “Stop treating me like it! I see the way you treat Tim,” he shouted angrily at Dick who just sat on the bed, stunned. JJ sat down on the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I'm tired of it! I hate you! I hate all of you!” He started giggling manically, tears streaming down his face, sobbing and giggling. “I _hate_ all of you,” he sobbed weakly.

Jason reached over and grabbed his boxers, which he had just tossed on the foot of the bed. He gathered his other clothes from the floor and folded them into a neat pile while Tim was throwing his fit. He was still severely confused, but now was not the time to ask.

JJ inched closer to the door and used it to lift himself up. “Kon never treated us any differently! I know he could tell the difference! He was never rough with us! He was always sweet and caring and didn't care!” JJ's eyes were on fire, glaring fiercely at Dick. “You treat Tim with such sweetness and you act like I'm a little monster! I am not! But I can show you a fucking monster! Do you want me to go there!” Tears were still streaming down his face when he stormed out of the room.

Jason was pulling on his shirt when he heard glass shattering in the bathroom. He was on his feet in an instant, kicking in the bathroom door, and scooping Tim up off the floor. The bathroom mirror was shattered, pieces on the floor, a bloody impact point. He looked at the damage done to Tim's hand and saw glass shards embedded in it. “Fuck,” he muttered. He set Tim on his feet. “I'm taking you to Alfred to patch that up. Get dressed.” Jason walked back to his bedroom. Dick hadn't moved from the bed. “Get up. He needs to see Alfred and you're coming too. You are both going to tell me what the hell is going on.”

Dick nodded. He couldn't take his eyes off of Tim's bloodied hand while he pulled his boxers and jeans back on, wincing when he flexed his hand.

Jason and Dick helped Tim down to his car. Tim crawled into the passengers seat, knowing full well he wasn't allowed to drive, even though it was his car. He knew Dick wouldn't let him. Jason opened the driver's door and slid in. Dick gave him a look like he had kicked a puppy. “But—”

“In the back,” Jason told him. “I'm driving and you both are going to tell me what is going on. It's safer for you both if I drive, that way I can tighten my grip around the steering wheel if I have to rather than around your throats,” he told them hotly. Dick climbed into the back seat and Jason took off, fast and extremely furious. “First, I'm going to start by asking why the maniacal gleams and twisted smiles I keep seeing remind me of Joker and you're going to assure me that Joker didn't get his hands on _two_ Robins. And then I'm going to inquire why Tim is being so two-faced and you are going to be come up with something to tell me for that as well.”

Tim glanced in the rear-view mirror at Dick who gulped. Saving his brother, Tim turned his attention back to Jason. “Jason, you aren't allowed to be angry with Bruce for what I'm going to tell you.”

Jason scoffed. “Like hell I'm not.” He glanced in the rear-view mirror and then back at the road. “But let's get one thing straight,” he told Tim, a fire in his eyes. “I won't be angry, I'll be  _furious_.”

“If you're going to be angry with anyone, Jason, be angry with me,” Tim informed him, matching the intensity that Jason held. “It was my first solo patrol. I went out without Bruce's permission. He had something else to do that night, Dick had gone back to Bludhaven, and Bruce forbade me from going out of the manor by myself.” Tim huffed. “I didn't listen. I stopped a mugging but it turned out to be a trap set by the Joker. He thought I was you and when he realized I wasn't, he vowed to kill me too. He took me away and tortured me.”

Tim's explanations just fueled the rage Jason had for Bruce. “It's bad enough he let the fucker get away with killing me, but letting him damage another of his so-called sons and just letting him go _again_?” Jason shook his head. “I'm not gonna stand for it!” He angrily pressed on the gas and sped faster to the manor, screeching to a halt outside of it, leaving a trail of burned rubber.

Tim quietly exited the car, assessing the damage that Jason just did to his tires. He was going to need new ones—ones that had tread again. He opened the car door for Dick who sat stricken in the back. “This is bad,” Dick muttered. “He's gonna kill Bruce.” Tim and Dick flew from the car but they were still too far away when Jason entered the Batcave.

“Oh Daddy dearest!” Jason shouted angrily. He marched angrily up to Bruce, who was doing something at the supercomputer. “You and I need to have a talk.” Jason swung on Bruce, who ducked and turned around, sweeping his leg out.

Jason tripped on it but caught himself. He swung on Bruce again and jumped away when Bruce moved to retaliate. Bruce moved in close to Jason, not to attack but to move away from the supercomputer so it wouldn't end up damaged in the random brawl that Jason started again without reason. “What do we need to talk about, Jason?” he asked, almost in exasperation, dodging Jason's foot.

“We need to talk about Tim,” Jason told him. Bruce froze and Jason saw his opening, landing a roundhouse kick on Bruce's jaw. He stopped fighting but kept his fists up just in case.

“What's up? Is there something wrong with him?” Bruce asked worriedly.

“Other than his split-personality?” He took a step forward. “How could you Bruce? How could you let that happen?” Jason took another step forward, swinging a punch into Bruce's face. “First you let Joker get away with killing me—and I can live with that!” he spat angrily, not staying still. Still swinging punches at Bruce's face, dancing on his feet, boxing Bruce, throwing punches left and right, enough to keep Bruce moving around, intentionally not making contact—but always coming close. “I mean, I'm here, aren't I? But letting him get _another_ kid, another one of your so-called **sons**!” Jason spat the word at Bruce. “And he's still loose! He's still **living**! _How_ is he still alive, Bruce? _**Why**_ is he still _ALIVE_?!?” Jason swung again, intentionally making contact.

He had Bruce staggering backwards. “I—He—But—” Bruce was reeling.

“But shit!” Jason swung again and would have made contact if another person hadn't interferred. Jason wrenched his arm away from Dick's hold, his eyes still trained on Bruce. “If you had done away with him after me, we wouldn't have this mess!” Jason yelled furiously. He was livid. “We wouldn't be standing here right now! Hell, situations wouldn't even be the same! I'm not mad that I died Bruce, I'm livid that you didn't fucking avenge me! I thought that being your son was good enough, that I was a good enough reason for you to put that fucker out of his misery! But no! You had to keep him alive! How much shit and chaos has he caused for you since me? Since Tim! Fuck, Bruce! God fucking damn it!” Jason wanted to stop yelling but his anger had hit an all time high and right now it seemed impossible for his voice to be at a lower volume.

Bruce stepped in closer to Jason and pulled him into a kiss which shut him up. Dick watched as Jason practically melted into Bruce. Jason wrapped his around Bruce's waist, pulling him in closer and Bruce wound his arms around Jason's hips. Dick heard a small squeak beside him and quickly covered Tim's eyes.

“Great, yeah, make me blind. What the hell is going on?” Tim asked, but he didn't really need to see. Alfred had finished working on Tim's hand and it felt almost as good as new. It stung but he knew it was going to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...Yeah. I think I have _officially_ lost sight of where I was going with this. Grandpa is home and fine but I think I already said this. That was my motivation for this thing and now I have no motivation. If you guys have any ideas, please, please let me know. Until then, this thing may be on temporary hiatus.


	6. Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I've had the chapter typed up for weeks but the internet was being frivolous and finicky. Finally got it working again. Also, 1000 hits! YAY!
> 
> Jason whirled around when he heard the thud.  He turned back to Dick angrily.  "God damn it, Grayson!  See what happened!  He collapsed.  Has he done that before?" Jason snapped at Dick, partly out of anger, partly out of fear for his little brother.  "Go help Bruce locate that fucking packet!  I don't want your fucking help with Tim!  I don't even want to fucking see you right now!"

Jason punched Bruce in the gut, pushing him away. He wiped the kiss away with the back of his hand and glared angrily at Bruce. "You know what, whatever!" He stalked away from Bruce, moving toward Dick and Tim. "I'm done with your shit!" he shouted.  "I'm done with your games! THE  _ONLY_  REASON I CAME BACK WAS TO GET TIM'S HAND FIXED UP AND NOW THAT IT IS, I'M **GONE**!  YOU WON'T EVER HAVE TO SEE ME  **AGAIN**!"  He stared Dick down, anger burning in his eyes. He studied his older brother, restraining his urge punch his lights out.  Instead, Jason grabbed Tim's hand out of Dick's grip and pulled him away.  "Come on, Timmy. We're leaving."

Tim firmly planted his feet.  Jason tugged at the smaller boy but it seemed that Jason couldn't even  **drag**  Tim, no matter how hard he  _tried_. "Not yet," Tim told him and for the first time in this whole ordeal Jason found himself wondering if it was Tim he was dealing with or if JJ was in control.

Tim wrenched his hand out of Jason's grasp and walked up to Dick. Jason watched the scene unfold, intrigued and a bit confused.  Jason smirked at the innocence that Tim's tone held when he spoke, staring Dick in the eye, practically batting his eyelashes. "What was that pamphlet thing that I found in Jason's apartment? You know, the  _Alternatives for Self-Harm_  thing?" He watched as Dick's gaze flew to Bruce and Jason couldn't keep the smugness out of his smirk.  _ **Finally!**_ The tables were being turned.

Dick turned his gazed back to Tim and trying not to look helpless and failing miserably.  This was one thing that he had hoped he wouldn't have had to do. Why did Bruce forget to give Tim his copy? "I made one for everyone," Dick told him. "I made one for you too. Yours was the one I gave Bruce to look over. I promise."  The fear in Dick's eyes was priceless and Jason couldn't believe that his innocent Timmy was the one putting it there. "I promise I didn't forget you."  It was evident by Dick's tone that he didn't want another melt-down like the one had in Jason's apartment. That being said, maybe this  _wasn't_  his Timmy.

JJ smirked to himself.  _ **THIS**_  was what he wanted. He didn't play by their rules. No,  _they_  played by  **HIS**.  He turned to Bruce and caught Jason's eye along the way. Something about the smugness in Jason's smirk made JJ happy. It made him proud of himself and like he was doing something right. He felt a heat spike run down his back and he shuddered involuntarily.  He hoped it wasn't visible. He didn't want questions from Dick or Bruce, but as he stared his mentor down he was sure the shudder had been invisible to the naked eye.  "So?" he asked, his eyebrows jumping.  JJ wasn't sure if it was threatening or not, but the movement was an involuntary tic, so he couldn't help if it looked dumb. "Dick says you had them last. Is this true or is he lying?"

"He's...not lying," Bruce told him, completely avoiding Tim's gaze.  "I...must have misplaced the whole packet."  Bruce looked Tim in the eye again. "I'm sorry."

"Ha!" JJ didn't believe that.  Why should he?  Bruce has never given him any reason to.  He laughed like it was a joke, like Bruce had said something absolutely  _ **hilarious!**_  He saw Bruce shudder, his laughter reminding the group a little too much of the Joker, and that fueled JJ's laughing fit.  JJ saw Dick frozen in fear and his laughing turned to cackling.  The look of absolute terror on Bruce's face fueled his fit beyond cackling. JJ dissolved into a coughing fit, doubling over, the coughs wracking Tim's small frame.  While Dick and Bruce looked horrified, Jason jumped into action, the smug look on his face replaced by worry, concern, and a different kind of fear.

He was at Tim's side in an instant, rubbing his back soothingly, just like he had done when Tim had the fit choking fit when he was throwing up.  He knelt down next to Tim and took his hand, still rubbing his younger brother's back.  "It's okay, babe.  It's all gonna be okay.  We're gonna fix this.  It'll all be okay.  You'll get the packet and everything will be all right."  Of course, Jason knew that this was  _SO_ much bigger than the pamphlet or the packet but he also knew, sometimes, things had to be taken one step at a time.  He glanced up at Bruce from the position on his knees.  "Go.  Find the packet," he ordered.  "And don't go thinking I'm done with you.  I know your kisses mean nothing," he growled through gritted teeth.  He stood up and turned his sights on Dick after Bruce left.  "How could you leave something of that level of importance in  _his_  hands?" he shouted at his older brother.  "I would have thought you'd stopped being blind to his level of incompetence after  _my_  death.  I suppose I  **really** didn't matter to either of you after all."  He shook his head, pure disgust in his green eyes. "Don't make the same mistakes with Timmy that you made with me.  I know I'm a worthless piece of street trash!   _HE_   **ISN'T**!  DON'T TREAT HIM LIKE HE IS!" Jason growled, protectively guarding Tim.

Tim tried to speak through his coughing, to say something but he continued coughing instead.  God damn it!  It was as if some of the Joker Venom had infused with his system.  He didn't remember  **ever** having an an attack this bad.  He supposed that was JJ's doing.  The split persona was practically born from the Joker Venom.  Still, he wanted to shout at his brothers, tell them to stop, that he was okay.  But he couldn't get anything out through JJ's coughing fit.  Tim desperately wanted to tell Jason that he wasn't a screw up and that he definitely wasn't a worthless piece of street trash.  Right now he was having issues even breathing.  Tim started panicking which just made matters worse because his heart was pounding ferociously in his chest, the coughing was becoming painful, and he couldn't breathe.  He felt dizzy and weightless, his brothers bickering was becoming faint and his vision started going black.  Tim wouldn't have been surprised if he had even been coughing up blood.  He wouldn't have known if he was though because his vision went black and his knees gave out from under him.  Later, he would recall that he didn't even remember hitting the floor of the cave.

Jason whirled around when he heard the thud.  He turned back to Dick angrily.  "God damn it, Grayson!  See what happened!  He collapsed.  Has he done that before?" Jason snapped at Dick, partly out of anger, partly out of fear for his little brother.  "Go help Bruce locate that fucking packet!  I don't want your fucking help with Tim!  I don't even want to fucking see you right now!"

"It's not my fault, you know!" Dick shouted back.  He was tired of taking Jason's flack.  "It's not my fault  _ANY_  of this happened!  It's not my fault Bruce is so fucking lax!  It's not my fault that I was in Bludhaven when that incident occurred!"

"No, but it's partially your fault that the Joker is still on the loose.  Just because Bruce didn't want to do shit didn't mean that you had to sit back and let him go free!  Oh wait, I forgot," Jason said, turning the tables back on Dick.  "You're a goody-goody just like Bruce.  Can't have blood on your hands."  He mockingly covered his mouth with his hand with a mock-gasp.  "Oh no, it's such a sin."  He scoffed.  "Besides, whose fault is it that JJ feels like a used toy?  I don't know the story and I won't pretend that I do, but YOU  _SURE AS HELL_  DIDN'T STOP IT!  You didn't FIX it either!"  Jason felt himself shaking.  Maybe after Jason got Tim back to Alfred, he could spar with Cass.  He needed something to expel his rage on and he was sure Cass would be the only one who could help—and the only one he wouldn't want to shove him out a window.  He was still afraid that he would accidentally end up hurting her, but he knew she would punch him just for that thought.  "I am absolutely  _sick_  of your shit," he hissed.  "Now  **GO**!" he shouted, none too nicely.  Jason leaned down and gingerly picked Tim up, watching Dick leave in his peripheral vision.  He hoisted the smaller boy onto his back and brought him up to the infirmary.

"Master Jason," Alfred greeted him when he entered the room, concern on his face.  He helped Jason lay Tim on one of the tables.  "What seems to be the matter?" he asked, already checking Tim's vitals.

Jason watched as Alfred tended to Tim.  "He..."  Did Alfred know?  Alfred had to have known.  How could he not know about Tim's laughing fits that spiraled out of control.  Bruce wouldn't keep that from him, would he?   "It started out as laughter but by the end he was coughing and gasping for air and then he just collapsed."  Jason turned his gaze on Tim, taking in just how bad he really looked.  There were dark circles around his eyes that contrasted with his already pale skin giving him a sickly hue and the contrast of his dark hair against his skin made him look ashen.  Jason became even more worried.  Tim already didn't take the best care of himself, putting others first, but the you throw in what happened with Kon and Stephanie in the past year and Bart's recent passing, Tim's health was going to get steadily worse if it didn't go on a steep decline first.  Add in the mess with the Bruce, Dick, and JJ and it looked like Tim should be on Death Row.  "Will he be all right?"  Jason watched as Alfred gently removed Tim's shirt.  He took in all the scars that littered Tim's small frame and wondered just how many of those were his doing.  It wasn't something he wanted to think about right now, but it was better than some alternatives.  At least Tim didn't look scrawny anymore—Well he  _did_  but at least he had more muscle now.

"He just needs his rest, Master Jason.  Master Timothy should be back on his feet after a day or so if given rest and the proper nutrients."  Alfred examined Tim's hand again.  "Dick couldn't explain to me how this had happened.  Do you have the details, Master Jason?" Alfred asked him.

"We were messing around and one thing lead to another, Alfred."  He felt guilty, like he should explain all the details to Alfred—how they had been in the bedroom, doing things they shouldn't have been.  In a way, it was his fault too.  He didn't do anything to stop Dick.  Things just kind of happened.  "Tim was suddenly furious and he ran to the bathroom.  He punched in my bathroom mirror.  I was at his side instantly and I knew coming to you would be the best idea."  Nervousness flooded Jason.  He knew he couldn't get away from Alfred's searching eyes.

"Messing around?" Alfred repeated knowingly.  He tsked and shook his head.  Bruce passed down some alarmingly bad traits to his Robins.  He wasn't sure if Bruce knew about this one but he'd be sure to bring it up with him along with the fact that Tim's mental condition was worsening at an alarming rate.  "I don't know what condition he will be in when he wakes up, Master Jason, but you're welcome to stay here with him.  Might I suggest reading a book or something?  I need to find Bruce."

"Alfie," Jason started quickly.  "Do you know that packet that Dick made for the whole Batfamily?  Bruce has Tim's and he's trying to locate it.  Is it possible that you know where it is?"  Alfred knew just about everything that went on the in Batmanor it seemed, so why shouldn't he know where a packet of papers were?

"That?"  He thought about it.  "I believe I stuck that away for safe keeping.  I'll take it to Bruce.  This is a disaster he needs to fix himself."

Jason thanked Alfred and pulled the man into a big hug.  "Thanks Alfie.  You're a life saver."  After Alfred left, Jason scanned the bookshelves that were in the infirmary.  He pulled  _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_  off the shelf and began reading it aloud.

* * * * * *

" _'If I asked you where the hell we were,' said Arthur weakly, 'would I regret it?_ '" Jason read allowed, trying to mimic Alfred's English accent and failing horribly.

" _Ford stood up_ ," he continued normally, losing the British lilt.  " _'We're safe,' he said._ "  The tone Jason used for Ford was different from that that he used with Arthur, accent too.  It wasn't quite British and it wasn't quite American.  It was more leaning toward Australian but it was still bad.

" _'Oh good,' said Arthur._

" _'We're in a small galley cabin,' said Ford, 'in one of the spaceships of the Vogon Constructor Fleet.'_

" _'Ah,' said Arthur, 'this is obviously some strange usage of the word safe that I wasn't previously aware of.'_ "

Jason laughed.  "That sounds like you and me on a good day, Timmy."  He examined his little brother.  Vitals were fine, chest was steadily moving up and down which meant his breathing was steady.  Jason smiled. Things were okay.  He'd been reading The Hitchhiker's guide for about an hour and a half, Bruce had come in a half-hour into the session to deliver the packet.  Things were good.

"Yeah," Tim muttered quietly.  "Who brings a sixteen year old to a bar on a date that wasn't a date?"  Jason laughed, remembering the incident that Tim was recalling.  "And you can't tell me that it wasn't a date."  Tim glanced up at him pointedly.  "Ninety percent of the time we were together that day, you were smiling.  That's the most I've seen you smile at one time."

"Timmers!" Jason exclaimed excitedly snatching his little brother up in a hug.  "You're okay!"

Tim squeaked—partly in surprise and partly because all the oxygen that had been in his lungs was suddenly thrust out and involuntarily became carbon dioxide floating around the room.  He tried to squirm out of Jason's grip and couldn't.  "Can't....breathe....!"  He felt like he was going to pass out again.

"Oh!"  Jason quickly loosened his grip but didn't let go of Tim.  "It wasn't a date," Jason muttered in his ear while hugging him—normally now.  He really didn't want to break his brother any more than he was.  "Besides, it not like I was making you drink alcohol.  It was a bottle of soda," he clarified.  "How would you know I was smiling anyway?" Jason questioned.  "I had the helmet on for a good chunk of that, you know."

Tim pulled out of his grip and grinned up at Jason.  "I know.  Just don't tell Dick that you took me to a bar," Tim grumbled.  "Neither of us will ever hear the end of it even though I did just end up with a soda."  He rolled his eyes and then stared up into Jason's eyes.  "Also, work on your accents.  Your Australian accent is terrible and your British accent could use some sprucing up."

"Well, I think they sound just fine!" Jason declared proudly, grinning brightly, thumbs in the pockets of his beige Carhartt pants.

Tim gave him a sideways glance.  "You're mental," he muttered.  "You and I have very different definitions of the word  _fine_."

Jason chortled and placed a large packet on Tim's chest.  "Bruce finally pulled his head out of his ass with Alfred's help.  You're packet was found."  He smiled brightly but his smile dimmed after a moment or two.  "Bruce was extremely apologetic.  I guess it turns out that he had misplaced it and by doing so, he had thought that since he couldn't find it, he must have already given it to you."  Jason sighed.  "I still want to pummel him into the ground for letting anything happen to you in the first place though," Jason mumbled irritably.

"I'm still confused as to  _why_  you care," Tim interjected.  "I'm your replacement, remember?  You've tried to kill me on numerous occasions and then when you came home earlier I thought you'd be mad to even find me in your place at all.  I was expecting you to get angry when you found me on your couch.  That's why I threw up.  I panicked.  I thought you were gonna kick me out and then I wasn't sure where I was going to go."

Jason's eyes widened at Tim's explanation.  He pulled up Alfred's chair and flopped back in it.  "God, you sound like Roy.  We've enacted a scenario where he goes back to face Oliver and more often than not it ends with him in an anxiety attack because he over-thinks every single little detail."  Jason took a deep breath.  "For the record, I would never.  I know exactly how it is to need a place to stay but have nowhere to run.  You and I had a rough start, but I think we can work through that.  I can't say I know how it feels to have lost someone in the line of battle, but I can say how it feels to be the one lost in the line of battle.  People don't need to lose you too, Tim."

"Thanks."  Tim glanced away, gathering his thoughts.  He remembered what Jason had been yelling at Dick.  Tim sheepishly glanced up at Jason.  "And just for the record, you aren't street trash and you definitely  _aren't_  a screw up."

Jason eyed Tim, thoroughly looking him up and down.  There had to be something wrong, something perhaps that Alfred missed.  Maybe Tim's coughing fit had knocked something loose.  He never expected these words to be spoken to him.  He definitely never expected those words to be spoken to him by his replacement no less.  "Yeah, okay," Jason said, half-heartedly agreeing with a slight nod of his head.  "Let's say I believe any of what you just said.  Where did that come from, anyway?"

Tim picked the packet up off his chest and started glancing through it.  There was a lot more there than he was expecting.  There was so much more than just the pamphlet.  "When you and Dick were yelling at each other I wanted to cut in then and tell you, yell at you both to be quiet because you were both being moronic, but my coughing became too much," he explained.

Jason eyed Tim, watching him remove the pamphlet from the rest of the packet.  He watched Tim flip it open and read.

  * Make yourself as comfortable as possible – Pretty self-explanatory




Tim shook his head. There really wasn't much else he _could_ do right now.

  * Stomp around in heavy shoes – They're fun, they make noise, and it's always fun to steal somebody else's shoes.




Tim laughed to himself. There was no way that _wasn't_ from Cass. He guess she had lots of fun stealing Bruce's shoes.

  * Play handball or tennis – You know that ball you have? Use it. Just, PLEASE, don't throw it at anybody's head. No excuses. It did not “just slip from my hand.” Please be responsible. I know you guys know how to do this.




Hmm...Again. Aimed at Damian. That's exactly something he would say too.

  * Yell at what you are breaking and tell it why you are angry, hurt, upset, etc. – Just please don't sound like you're murdering somebody or like you're getting murdered. Getting the cops called to your apartment is not a very good idea.




Tim contemplated that. He didn't completely agree with Dick's statement there. Sometimes, when the thoughts became too much and he didn't want to worry Dick or Babs or any of the other Bats—like after Kon's tragic departure—he would call up the GCPD and talk to whatever officer was off duty or whatever officer had some down time. He wouldn't call in as Tim Drake-Wayne, but he'd call in as Red Robin. He'd tell them what was on his mind and what was going on in his head and they'd talk him down. They also talked him through his PTSD He had some meaningful conversations with officers in the force and he extended the offer to call him if they ever needed somebody to talk to. He opened up so much with them, a few of the officers had started to feel like a second family. There were just somethings he couldn't open up to them about because he wasn't sure how they would take it—JJ for one, and, well, Jason for a second.

He glanced up at Jay. It looked like Jason was quite fine being immersed in _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. Tim felt proud. He was finally getting Jason to veer away from all the classic literature—not that it was bad, but Tim wanted something they could bond over besides their incidents on patrol and Bruce.

Tim glanced back down at the paper and continued reading.

  * Buy a cheap plate and decorate it with markers, stickers, cut outs from magazines, words, images, what ever that expresses your pain and sadness and when you’re done, smash it. – Please be careful when doing the smashing. Also, don't purposely damage yourself in the process and play it off as an accident. Tim, I'm looking at you. Please don't do this. We all love you.




JJ was stunned and the paper slipped out of Tim's hand, landing on the floor quietly with a flapping of pages. Dick actually addressed him by name. Well, addressed _Tim_ by name, but still. And what more, it looked like it _hadn't_ been added on. The comment looked just as same as the rest of them—hand-written and photo copied. This meant they weren't kissing up or suddenly trying to make him feel accepted. But what about the treatment from Dick? Did Dick possibly think that because that because he was the 'son' of Joker and Harley, that because _Joker_ was part of his name, that he was going to end up no better than the Joker himself? Did Bruce think that? Is that why Bruce suddenly pawned him off to Dick? Had Bruce been getting tired of him? JJ remembered that there for awhile Tim was still part of the dark recesses of his brain, after the incident, during the recovery process. Had Bruce caught onto that? Had Bruce known all along that after he saved Tim, he wasn't really Tim? Was _that_ why Bruce had pawned him off to Dick? Is that why Dick behaved that way he did around him? Did they both really think he was some _animal_ like his namesake was?

Tim was tremoring now, hyperventilating. This wasn't happening. _This_ wasn't _happening. Is that what was going on? Is that what they_ thought _? That didn't sound right. That couldn't_ be _right._

“Breathe....” Tim knew that worried tone, recognized the feel of rough, calloused skin against his own. Jason was rubbing his thumb against the top of Tim's hand.

He looked over and met Jason's gaze. Jason's eyes were filled with worry. Tim's eyes were huge and filled with fear. The tremors weren't his own and neither was the hyperventilation. “JJ,” was all he was able to get out. Jason's eyes widened. “Panic....attack,” he told Jason weakly.

Jason's reaction was to call Alfred to come help.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay brothers! Jason's insecurity of himself is heartbreaking. At some point I feel like I should bring Roy and Kori into this, at least over the phone if nothing else. Roy calling Jay about a job or something. IDK.


	7. Glasgow and Other Such Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. So this is the first arc of three. In this AU. I've been planning a convergence AU for a few weeks and I honestly hadn't thought about adding this in, but with the way this chapter turned out, it's going to be the first arc in the series. I'll put what arc goes to what series. They're going to converge little by little in themselves. I'm sorry if you don't like that kind of stuff, but if you'd like to leave me prompts in my inbox I would love that. I'll start a ficlet prompt series. The AUs I'm going to use are a Talon!AU, a Catlad!AU, a Reverse!AU. I'm even going to have a bit of an AK!Jason AU with a JJ!Tim. Really, any DC prompt I will write and put into a series of ficlets for you guys. Even if you don't stick with this series, you guys are great! :)
> 
> \--
> 
> "He was _cackling_ ," Damian pointed out to Dick and Jason. "Tim doesn't cackle. That isn't Tim.” He stopped himself. He wasn't the Damian they knew. Their Damian had died on mission and he had witnessed it. He had come back here as a means of escape from his own dimension, a dimension that was slowly killing itself. “Well, he does,” Damian admitted, “but that's a part of Tim that _isn't_ Tim.” He knew from experience.

JJ read the pamphlet through Tim's eyes.

  * Buy a cheap plate and decorate it with markers, stickers, cut outs from magazines, words, images, what ever that expresses your pain and sadness and when you’re done, smash it. – Please be careful when doing the smashing. Also, don't purposely damage yourself in the process and play it off as an accident. Tim, I'm looking at you. Please don't do this. We all love you.




JJ froze, the pamphlet fluttering out of his hand and to the floor. _We all love you._ He scoffed in Tim's head. They loved _Tim_ and that's all they care about. They didn't care about him. They didn't care about JJ. They would probably **celebrate** if he didn't exist anymore. They'd probably be _ECSTATIC_.

The comment looked just like the others—hand-written by Dick way back when this thing was originally made—and that meant that Bruce and Dick weren't just trying to kiss up to him—to Tim.

JJ scoffed again. They would never kiss up to him. They would never see a reason to. They'd never see him as an equal, they'd never think they did things wrong, they'd never see JJ as a person of his own.

Did Bruce think—had he influenced _Dick_ to think—that because he was broken and fragmented and the _son_ —he spat at that. He was in _NO WAY_ Joker's **SON**!—of Joker and Harley that he was going to end up no better than that psychopath?

JJ wanted to scream, to shout, to throw a fit, and brutally get it into their thick **thick** skulls that he wasn't HIM! He wasn't the fucking Joker! He was nothing like him and he would NEVER BE! He wanted so badly to do right in their eyes, but at the same time he wanted to rip them limb from limb because of their complete and utter **STUPIDITY**! He wanted to rip his face off and pin it to a wall to remind them that no matter what dimension they were in, they would never be rid of the Joker, never rid of some _REMINDER_ that he existed and that, as long as the Joker's memory was still in tact, he would never **CEASE** to exist.

“Stop him. He's clawing at his face,” he heard a voice say over him, felt someone grab his arm, felt his nails make contact with that arm, felt his limbs being restrained. He laughed, cackled, as he felt the restraints on his arms, his legs. He felt the familiar comfort of pain. He loved the way his nails digging into his own skin hurt. He felt the cold sting of alcohol on his skin, the burn as it cleaned a wound on his forehead that he had made. He enjoyed feeling the pain. It reminded him that he was alive.

JJ remembered that after Bruce and Barbara had saved Tim from the Joker and Harley—after the damage had been done, after he'd been born as a product of the break in Tim's mental stability—Tim himself stayed to the dark recesses of his own head, a voice that only JJ heard—when he did speak, that is—small and broken, fragmented pieces that JJ—with the help of Dick and Babs and Bruce—helped pick up and piece back together.

JJ had thought Kon was the only one who knew—the only one who sensed the mental break, the mental instability, and, when it happened, the switch—but had Bruce caught onto it too? Had Bruce caught onto the change? Had he noticed it too? JJ made sure it was subtle, made sure it didn't happen often, made sure he behaved like Tim—in actions, in speech, in personality. He made sure he answered as he did when Tim was holed up in the background, still in pieces, coaching JJ in how to speak and how to act because Tim himself wasn't ready to face anybody yet, to be the one in control of himself, to be the one doing things. JJ thought he had done that right, that there was no lapse, that there was no _difference_. He thought his presentation was flawless but obviously not.

Had Bruce actually caught onto that? Did he tell Dick? Is _that_ why Dick treated JJ differently from Tim? Did they both actually think he was some _animal_? Did they really think he was just going to behave as his namesake did?

_**HE WASN'T JOKER, DAMN IT!!** _

Was _Jason_ really the only one who saw him differently? Was he the only one who didn't see him as an animal? The Arkham Knight, his _sworn enemy_ was the only one who didn't see anything wrong with him. There was something wrong with that.

But wait. His Knight had all black hair, not black hair with a white patch. Further more, the brand. Jason, _his_ Jason, his _Knight_ had a brand on his face, he had a _J_ , he was marked—in a similar way that JJ had been marked. Jason's mark wasn't as bad as JJ's had been, was easier to cover, to hide. Unlike his own facial marring.

He felt his tightened facial muscles and tried to touch them, to feel them, tried to lift his hand to open up the wounds, to make them bleed, to feel the pain, but even as he lashed out against the restraints he started to feel fuzzy, like he was fading in and out of existence, becoming unconscious.

The last thing he remembered was darkness and the feeling of strong arms wrapped around his small form.

* * * * * *

"Can somebody explain to me what is going on?" a small hellion demanded. He looked between Dick and Jason. "Grayson, Todd, can one of you explain to me why Drake had to be sedated and taken away by father?"

Jason looked at Damian, completely ignoring Dick. "Tim's—" he started.

"Unwell," Dick finished. "Bruce is gonna get him help."

Damian looked between the two of them. “I'm not stupid. I was in a different dimension, not dead. What is going on?” When he got back, he had heard from Cassie that a mission had gone south, Bart was no more, and she, Cissie, and Greta were intensely worried about Tim.

“ _Damian, we've all lost somebody that we care about. You know how close Tim was with Bart and Kon. I am very worried that he might try to do something crazy like trying to clone them. The last thing he needs are two people running around with the_ faces _of his best friends. You and I both know that they wouldn't have the memories that Tim and I share with_ ours _. They wouldn't be the same people and that would just hurt Tim more. I have Secret and Arrowette doing recon. They're going to give me all the info they can gather from the mission sight and then the three of us are going to run the information by Wonder Woman._

"He was _cackling_ ," Damian pointed out to Dick and Jason. "Tim doesn't cackle. That isn't Tim.” He stopped himself. He wasn't the Damian they knew. Their Damian had died on mission and he had witnessed it. He had come back here as a means of escape from his own dimension, a dimension that was slowly killing itself. “Well, he does,” Damian admitted, “but that's a part of Tim that _isn't_ Tim.” He knew from experience.

Dick and Jason exchanged a confused but intrigued look and turned their attention to Damian. "Oh?" Jason asked. "Color me intrigued."

"Yeah." Damian looked between the two like they were dense. "You two are pathetic. You've both been around him longer than I have and _neither_ of you have noticed?" He couldn't believe there was a time where he actually called his own Grayson and Todd his brothers. "You trained him, Grayson,” he said, eyeing the oldest, like he was really as stupid as he let himself seem to be sometimes. “You of all people should know."

"I just thought he was tired and needed sleep," Jason told the brat, referring to Tim's bad moods where he was always extremely tired and sleep deprived and more than a little grumpy.

“That's when the switch occurred,” Dick pointed out to him. “That was when they switched," Dick pointed out to him. “The mood swings always marked the change in Tim's subconscious.”

“Yeah,” Damian said with a quiet nod. “I've always referred to that part of Tim's subconscious as Glasgow.”

Dick quirked an eyebrow at his baby brother. “Where did you get Glasgow from?” Dick was rather curious and really wanted to know.

Damian was quiet, recalling the time he had first met Red Robin Tim Drake. He'd had enough encounters with the Joker to recognize the subtle gleam Tim's eyes would get when he talked about killing and adoring his victim's panicked shrieks. It was almost as if he was in a trance but then he'd shake himself out of it, horrified that such things would ever come out of his mouth. It was then that Damian knew that this Tim was the one who had been kidnapped and tortured by the Joker for weeks on end. “Joker's smile,” he explained finally. “It's called a Glasgow grin. I know there was a period of time where Tim had been kidnapped by the Joker. I figured calling that dark part of JJ would bring back bad memories for him. So I took to calling him Glasgow. It refers to something that _could_ have happened but it's still vague enough that it really doesn't have much attachment to the Joker.”

“Seriously?” Jason deadpanned. “Even the demon brat knew. How am I always the last to know?” He pouted, looking at Dick, like he had all the answers.

Dick just shrugged and Damian gave a small shrug of his own. He took a few steps toward the stairs that led inside. He ran the rest of the way to the stairs. At the base of the stairs, he jumped and tucked, sailing of the stairs. He untucked at the top of the staircase, catching himself with one hand, and flew through the door and out of sight.

Jason watched in awe and turned back toward Dick. “You've taught him wonders, Grayson,” when Damian was out of sight. “But seriously, how does the babybat know this and I've never caught on? Damian loathes Tim. Since when does he pay that close of attention to something he loathes?”

“I don't know,” Dick answered honestly. His eyes were still on the staircase. “I've never taught him that,” he muttered. “And I swear the only time Tim and Damian really hang out much is when they're on a mission together. Outside of the suits, they really don't spend time together.”

* * * * * *

Damian flew through the Manor, racing around corners. He followed the direction that he was sure his father had taken, cutting through the living room. He had to hold back tears when a small black cat with dark brown stripes jumped into his arms. He hugged it close to him, stroking its silky fur, murmuring loving words into its fur while he walked down the hall leading him to the door of Tim's room.

He carefully knocked on the door, entered when permission was given by Bruce, and quietly closed the door behind himself and the cat he held in his arms. He'd already lost one Tim, he wasn't about to lose anymore. The why he needed to stop what had happened. He just hoped there wasn't going to be any major temporal backlash.

“Damian, can I trust you to call Raven? Maybe she can figure out what's been going on with Tim,” Bruce suggested.

Damian nodded. Maybe she could. He knew she could get into people's heads and if she could gather information that way, maybe Damian wouldn't have to worry about temporal backlash. Maybe this would be a way to bring back all the people that had been lost and rewrite all the wrongs that had been committed.

* * * * * *

Damian dialed Raven's number into the Batcave phone. He was thoroughly surprised that she even _had_ a phone of her own. Damian wasn't sure what he had expected but this wasn't it. He never pegged Raven as the technological type. Although he didn't question as it continued to ring. He figured it was probably League issued or a “gift” from Wayne Enterprises. Neither of those things would surprise him. He should expect such from the Bat and the League. It made Damian feel better to think that she hadn't gone out and bought herself a phone.

_Maybe_ , he thought, petting the cat that was still in his arms, _this isn't so different from home._ It was just a massively smaller head count than what he was used to—that is if you are adding in the dimensional convergence. He leaned down and cuddled the cat, tears pricking his eyes. “You even smell alike,” he muttered, clinging to it as if it would bring _his_ back.

"So!" Dick popped up right in front of Damian, startling him, He back-vaulted out of the computer chair, making the cat fly right out of his arms with a startled meow at the sudden movement. The cat clung to the front of Dick's shirt and Damian landed practically on top of Jason. He would have if Jason hadn't moved out of the way. Damian reflexively spun with a roundhouse kick and Jason grabbed his ankle defensively, causing Damian to lose balance. He found himself dangling upside down by his ankle.

“What's the hell, Grayson!” Damian yelled, flailing around like a fish out of water. He curled up, glaring at Jason. “Put me down, Todd!” he growled.

Jason stared down at him, his lips curling up in a dangerous grin. He shook his head. “Not until you give us answers,” he said, eyes flashing.

“We talked it over, Babybat,” Dick explained, walking around the computer chair, methodically stroking the cat in his arms. “We know that you're not _our_ Damian.” He sat down next to Jason, close enough that if Damian were to reach out he could pet the cat as well.

“Now **talk!** ” Jason tightened his grip on Damian's ankle so that it was almost painful. He gave Damian a shake that shook his whole body. “Or I drop you.”

Dick looked up at Jason. “You're not dropping him on his head, Jason. He's not _our_ Damian, but he isn't the Heretic.”

Damian cringed at the name. “No, I'm not. Not you're Damian, I mean. He's dead,” Damian explained slowly. “I...I watched him die. And I hated it. I hated that there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. I...I came back here hoping to fix things.” He let out a slow, shaky breath. He could feel tears starting to prick his eyes. Crying right now wasn't going to help anything. He drew in another deep breath and exhaled slowly again, less shakily this time. “I watched him get killed,” he reiterated quietly. His breathing became shaky again as the scene replayed before his eyes. He could feel himself begin to shake. “He was killed by the Heretic.” Damian's throat closed up and his eyes clouded over with tears when he saw Dick's eyes grow wide and fill with his own tears. He felt Jason's grip on his ankle slacken, tried to prepare to catch himself. Jason must have felt him start to slip because his grip on Damian tightened again. At least Damian knew that Jason wasn't going to accidentally drop him on his head. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't stop it.” He was shaking now, tears dripping onto to the concrete below him.

Dick set the cat down next to him after holding it close, wondering if he had the power to bring his Damian back. He moved closer to Jason and Damian, reaching his hands up so that he held onto Damian. “Jason, let him down. I have him.” Another wave of tears rolled down his face as Damian was lowered into his arms and Jason plopped down next to him. Dick held his baby brother close, tears freely falling down both of their faces.

Damian clung to Dick, the fabric of Dicks shirt clutched in both of his fists. “I couldn't stop it...” he sobbed, burying his face in Dick's chest. “I couldn't stop any of it.” He slowly pulled away and looked up at Dick. “Everyone is dead and there was nothing I could do to stop it.” Another wave of tears rolled down his face. “That's why I'm here. I need to fix all the damage done and bring them back. I don't care if doing this kills me, makes me nonexistant. I'd rather be dead and have everyone alive than them me be alive without them.” He sobbed and felt another hand on top of his head. He sniffled and glanced up at Jason. His eyes sparkled with tears as well, but there was a light in them.

“We got this, Babybat,” Jason reassured him with a smile, ruffling his hair. “Just tell us what happened and we'll be on the look out for danger.”

Dick looked up to see his little brother smiling, _really smiling_. “When did you become so optimistic?” Dick asked him, curious as to where this new optimism came from. This wasn't something that he'd seen from Jason in quite awhile. He remembered hearing stories from Alfred about Jason before he died, how happy he was and how happy he used to be. Dick didn't think he'd ever seen a real smile from Jason ever, at least not since before he died.

“Your girlfriend really does wonders for a person, Dickiebird,” Jason said, grinning back at him. “I've spent so much time with her and Roy lately that sometimes I can't help but wonder what they would do in a situation like this.”

Dick grinned a bit and wiped his eyes. He turned his attention back to Damian. “Tell us what happened,” he suggested.

Damian looked between the two. “It's a long story,” he informed them, wiping his eyes.

“We've got time,” Jason told him. “Just breath. Things will be okay.”

“Y-Yeah,” he said, eyeing Jason. This was _his_ Jason right? His Little Wing? Dick was surprised. It was like consoling children had become second nature to him. He glanced at the kid in his lap. This was Damian though. These two never got along. Never in a million years would Dick have thought Jason would be doing a better of job at consoling Damian than him. Then again, he never expected to have a tear-streaked Damian in his arms crying to him about anything, let alone everybody in his dimension dying. “We'll do what we can to fix it.”

“It's also complicated, but here we go. The dimension I'm from became part of a convergence. Different realities converged, people got second chances, there were two versions of Drake.”

“Two Tims?” Jason asked him. “Sometimes one is more than enough to keep track of.”

Damian laughed. “Yep, two.” He decided not to reveal that Jason had been dating one of them. He knew he should keep the details that weren't needed to himself. “One of them was another version of your Tim, although he was bipolar and didn't have a dual personality. The other Tim had been taken in by Selina and raised to be a cat instead of a robin.” He laughed. “It's funny because they were so different in personality, but there was not a single physical difference, even in scars. In civies, there really was no telling them apart. They sounded practically identical as well. The _only_ difference was that the cat had a tail.”

“A tail, huh?” Jason asked. He was intrigued. “Sounds sexy.” He wasn't going to deny that maybe he had a thing for tails, whether they were made of pulled back hair or the actual appendage.

“What happened?” Dick asked. “How did things go sour?”

Damian was thankful that they were all on the ground for this or Jason may have actually dropped him on his because he accidentally let him go. Also, Damian was sure that Dick would have fallen over. “Beware the Court of Owls that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow perch behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed; speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send the Talon for your head.”

Dick's eyes were wide when Damian finished and he had a look of shock and absolute terror on his face. “They're...back...?” He swallowed. He couldn't believe his ears. Fear made his stomach knot up and his heart fluttered in his chest. With everything else on his plate, he had completely forgotten about the Court. He thought they were gone. Well, not _gone_ gone, but they had fallen silent. And, really, all the Bats knew that never spelled out anything good for them. Dick didn't think about the Court really, because it was just another aspect of his life that he had left behind in Gotham. Now he just wanted to kick himself for not paying closer attention.

Damian leaned forward and gently picked the cat again, putting it in his lap, hugging it close to him and petting it. “They never left,” he said, not looking at either of them. “I think,” Damian started slowly. “I think...” He looked up at Dick. “You know how every dimension is different? There are different events and different people who play drastically different roles in every dimension.” Dick nodded, still listening as Damian went on. “I think there are also dimensions where a lot of things are the same but roles change, ages change, fluctuate, even reverse sometimes.” He swallowed, trying to keep the point of what he was trying to say. “I know there are different Talons in different universes and different earths, but what if there is only one Court? Is it possible that the Court of Owls is a dimensional singularity? I know they have their talons in a lot—pun not intended—but is it possible that every single Talon in every single universe comes back to the same Court, the same base head quarters?” Damian knew he was babbling but this was something he'd been thinking about for awhile.

Dick quirked an eyebrow, not quite following all of Damian's babble. Jason smirked at Dick's obvious confusion. Just another thing that he was better at than Dick. He jumped in to clear the confusion. “So, you're thinking that the Court is a zero on a coordinate grid, an absolute constant.” Jason was proud with himself when Damian nodded.

“How the heck did you gather _that_?” Dick asked, confused and curious.

Jason grinned brightly. “Honestly, how much have you been around Tim when he babbles? He does that a lot when he's tired.”

“And most of it is nonsense,” Dick added in.

“I try to humor him by listening to it. And his incessant three am texts. I think they're supposed to be philosophical ideas, but they don't much sense half the time. Last week he texted me asking if swans go to swan lake when they die. I found it more amusing in the morning. The bottom line is that I'm actually understanding what he and Roy talk about when they get all technical.” He looked at Damian and petted the cat in his arms. “So yes, I followed every single word of that, Babybat.”

“Is that even possible?” Dick asked. “I mean... Are there actually such things as dimensional constants?”

“No way to know for sure, Dickiebird, but with all that we've seen, all we've been through, the fact that I'm here talking and not six feet under like I probably should be—It's not a possibility that we can rule out.”

Damian wanted to change the subject. He could get around to telling them everything later. “What's this one's name?” he asked, referring to the cat. It was completely identical to one that he had known back home.

“His names Cheshire,” he said smiling. “He was named because of his stripes. It was something that was voted on by me and Babs when I was Robin. He was only a kitten at that point.”

That made Damian light up. “Yeah? He looks identical to a cat I had over there. Same circumstances, kind of. You named it. You called him Cheshire because he kept disappearing. Turns out that he was a stray of Selina's that had gotten attached to you. After a bit, she let you keep him. He'd go back to her house occasionally but whenever she came to visit Father, she'd bring him with her.”

Jason smiled. It was nice to know that somethings didn't change. “What happened to me in that dimension? Did I die? I mean, not permanently, but did the same thing happen with me and mom and Joker?” Jason wasn't sure why he was asking. Yeah, a part of him wanted to know if there was a dimension out there where he _didn't_ die, but it was a morbid curiosity.

Damian looked sad again and he focused his attention back on Cheshire. “Yeah, you did die. It impacted everybody.” He looked up at Jason. “Radically.” He gently set the cat down and crawled out of Dick's lap, moving instead to settle down in Jason's lap. “And because the dimension I came from is the one where Tim became a Cat instead of a Robin, Bruce almost lost his mind from rage. He wasn't himself, Jason. He was lost without you. I know you don't know it and I'm pretty sure he doesn't realize it either, but from what Pennyworth has told me, you kept Father pretty grounded.” Jason wasn't looking at him, his attention was instead on Cheshire again. Damian reached up and brought Jason's attention back to him, gently gripping his chin and moving him so jade eyes locked grey-green eyes. “Jason, it wasn't a Robin thing, it was a _you_ thing. He loves all of his family, Jason, but you kept Father grounded in a way that Dick and I never could.”

Jason pulled away from Damian's grip, not believing a word coming out of the boy. Dick recognized the look on Jason's face and knew it was time to change the subject yet again. “Who had you been trying to get a hold of when we came down here?”

Damian glanced at him and up at Jason and took the hint. “You mean before you two rudely interrupted me?” Damian asked, playfully glaring at Dick. “I had been trying to call Raven. Father thinks that she might be able to figure out what's up with Tim but the phone just kept ringing.”

“Pfffft!” Dick shook his head, fishing something out of his pocket. “You're not gonna get a hold of her that way, kid. The phone she has is League issued and she hates it. No matter who calls her, she never answers it. I think it's her subtle version of a middle finger to anybody who dares to call her on it.” He pulled his communicator out of his pocket and tossed it to Damian. “But she always answers her Titans Communicator. Literally, the only reason that she _won't_ is if she physically _can't_.

“Thanks,” he said giving Dick a wide smile. “This is really cool. The you I know would never let me touch any of his gadgets.”

“Probably because he thought you would hurt yourself or that you would misuse them,” Jason answered, still in a grim mood. “Personal experience,” he added.

Damian smiled, loving this. He was kind of thankful that his version of the Bat-Clan hadn't been this close. It made him miss it less. Although, he missed his Tim.

* * * * * *

Rachel groaned at the annoying jingle that started playing from her T-Communicator. She needed to get people adjusted to her yoga schedule. Yoga helped her keep calm. A calm Raven was a good Raven. A monstrous, demon Raven was a bad Raven and not something anybody needed to see. Although, she had been on the mat for about an hour now and it wasn't like there wouldn't be down time in whatever it was they were doing. Even off planet missions had at least a few moments of downtime. She stood up from her mat and retrieved the comms unit that was sitting on her desk and answered it. She was surprised to be met with the youngest bat child in holo form. “Damian,” she answered in mild surprise. “What can I help you with?” she asked, mildly confused.

“Hey Rach!” Dick exclaimed, popping into the picture.

No longer confused, she quirked an eyebrow, mildly curious. “Wonder boy,” she greeted with a small smile. “What's up?” she asked, worry mixing with curiosity. “Is something going on with the team?” Her mind first jumped to Gar, then Kori, wondering if they were both all right. Their youngest team member hand an uncanny knack of getting himself into the oddest situations.

Dick shook his head. “It's about Tim,” he explained, gauging her reaction. He caught the way her eyes grew a little bit when she heard his name. “It's a long story, but we think you might be the only person who is able to help us.”

Rachel glanced around her apartment. “Me?” she asked in a small voice. “How would I be the only one who is able to help you? There are others with my abilities who aren't demonic. Couldn't you get one of them?”

Dick gave her a smile. This was either Fear or Self Doubt speaking. “You're right, there are others that we know of with your collection of abilities,” Dick confirmed, keeping his voice quiet as not to scare her. “But none of them are as learned with their abilities as you are, Raven. Also, because of what it is going on with him, I think he needs to know that he's not alone. He needs to know that he isn't the only one with a dark side.” After Bruce and Babs had rescued Tim from the traumatic event with the Joker, Dick had gone to Rachel, Kori, and Wally for support. He couldn't believe that he had almost lost another brother, and to Joker no less. “He needs your help with his dark side, Raven.”

Raven bit her lip, mulling it over in her head. She glanced down at her feet and back up at Dick and Damian. “But what if our dark sides get along? Wouldn't that be bad?” She walked over and plopped down on her couch. “Couldn't that be hazardous or destructive? How bad is he?”

“He needs someone to show him they care, Ray,” a third voice said. Raven was both surprised and amused when Jason leaned into the picture. “He needs someone who can get into his head, somebody who understands him, understands what he's going through. He needs somebody who can relate, somebody with their own dark side, their own demons.”

A small smile played on Raven's lips. “Hi Jay. That sounds like you, you know. I bet he could relate to you because you've both had experiences with the Joker. I haven't. Besides, you aren't half-demon with a father who wants to destroy earth and consume the souls of its inhabitants.”

“Don't cut yourself down, Raven,” Jason told her gently. “Kori always spoke highly of you when she told stories of her past. She always called you her sister. Besides, you can get into Tim's head in a way none of us can.”

Raven shook her head. “You need him, Jason.”

“And right now Drake needs _you_ , Roth. I have no idea what you two are on about, but your childish squabbles can wait. I am in no mood to lose _another_ Drake.”

“You actually need me to get into his head, don't you?” Rachel asked, finally grasping how bad Tim was. “How bad is he?”

“He's pretty bad,” Jason told her. “He has these coughing fits that literally put him on the ground. The scary thing is that they start as maniac laughter. Next thing we know, he's coughing. I think he was actually coughing up blood.”

Raven visibly cringed. “All right. I'll see if I can get into his head. And then you need to tell me what's going on.” She looked at Damian. “Are you in Jason's lap?” she asked, a small smile on her lips. “That's cute but definitely not something the Damian I know would do.”

“Hey, Raven, before you go, did Kori ever mention anything about me to you?” Jason asked. He was curious. Kori spoke of Raven to him and Jason. Did Kori ever talk about him and Roy to Rachel?

“She adores you, Jason. She understands about your demons, but she wishes that you could make peace with Bruce. She wants you to be at peace with yourself again. I think she wants to see the kid Dick used to talk about.”

Jason looked over at Dick, eyes wide with surprise. “You used to talk about me?” There was shock and surprise in his voice. “What did you say about me?” He glanced back at Rachel. She smiled at his shock and obvious excitement and slight worry. “I thought you didn't like me?”

Dick looked guilty so Raven took over. “Batman would call on occasion, to check in on Robin. He'd try to give daily reports but Dick would shut him out or hang up on him. Most of the calls that Dick got from the Manor were Alfred. He would report on how the Bat and his new Bird were. Dick would happily share the report with the rest of the team.” She watched happily at the smile that spread on Jason's lips, the light that brightened his eyes. “So, don't think for a minute that Dick didn't like you. He was still angry at Bruce. Honestly, I think things would be much different if you and Dick had been able to spend more time together, but the Bat didn't want to let go of his nestling and his already-grown Robin didn't want to come back to the Cave.”

“What was your issue with him, anyway?” Jason asked Dick.

Damian groaned from Jason's lap. “Lay-tor!” he emphasized exaggeratedly. He looked into the comms unit. “It's been nice speaking to you, Raven. It's time to cut this short though. See you in a few,” he said and closed the link before anything else could be said.

Raven chuckled to herself. She stood up from her couch. She cleaned a few things and then quickly suited up. Once that was done, she left her apartment in a portal of darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian will reveal more about what he saw and experienced a lot more in the next series. Raven is also going to get a lot out of information out of JJ and I'm also thinking of TimJayRach relationship for later. IDK why but that dynamic seems like it would work really well here. Originally it was just going to be Tim/Rach but with the end conversation it got me thinking, what if I added Jason to it? I could see that going very well in many ways. But it would still be somewhat of an open relationship. Really something I'm gonna play around with in the next arc.
> 
> Also, if you are planning on keeping up with things, keep the cat in mind. :) I've made a lot of references to my Catlad!AU and I made a few references to my AK!Jason AU. That's going to be a seriously dark AU. And I don't know why, but every time I think about it I constantly see woods and a castle. IDK. I'm gonna work on that.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the post I found: http://why-d0-i-exist.tumblr.com/post/126492010393/alternatives-for-self-harm


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